


Mercy, Love & Other Useless Things

by RiseoftheBlossom



Series: Commissions [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22807339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiseoftheBlossom/pseuds/RiseoftheBlossom
Summary: Regardless of their past, he would not lay an offensive hand on them, for it was their agreement. After she came across him, almost a shell of the man he had once been, he had agreed that in return for his freedom, he would fight for the planet Earth. So, in simpler terms: once Earth was free, he was free. Not a day sooner or later.Commission for Venus
Relationships: Bulma Briefs & Vegeta, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Series: Commissions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751041
Comments: 79
Kudos: 130





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

Their only hope.

_They_ were the planet's only hope.

It was funny, in an obviously messed up kind of way, how things turned out. Two women (one who couldn't even fight), a child and a cold-hearted murderer. Did she mention that said murderer was also their enemy? That he'd had a hand in the deaths of their loved ones?

It didn't matter. Not anymore.

Regardless of their past, he would not lay an offensive hand on them, for it was their agreement. After she came across him, almost a shell of the man he had once been, he had agreed that in return for his freedom, he would fight for the planet Earth. So, in simpler terms: once Earth was free, he was free. Not a day sooner or later.

Fixing her crimson dress over her curves, she glanced at herself in the mirror, narrowing her eyes a fraction to make sure she nailed the seductive expression she was aiming for. She did.

"This is too risky, Bulma."

It was with a raising, inquisitive eyebrow that Bulma glanced at the other woman via their reflections, asking, "What else do you propose, Chi-Chi? We have no other options."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about _him_ ," she hissed. From day one, she had been vehemently against his part in their plans. "I don't trust him. He's more likely to betray us than help us."

"He wouldn't do that. We have a deal."

"He killed one of the last Saiyans alive – one of his own people. What the hell makes you so certain that he won't do the same to us, huh? We're nothing to him."

Once more admiring herself in the mirror, she put her long, dangling earrings on, making sure to twist the ending of them so that the microphone was switched on. With it on, she would stay in contact with the ship.

"Bulma!"

It took a lot to hold back her growl. "I know Vegeta won't betray me, Chi-Chi."

" _How_?" the dark haired woman stressed.

She smirked at her own reflection, feeling rather pleased with herself. "He's a proud man and he owes me, since I saved his life."

She, Bulma Brief, had the ruthless Prince of all Saiyans under her thumb.


	2. Turn Away From All That I Know

**Chapter 1**

**Turn Away From All That I Know**

* * *

The world was in ruins.

_Her world_ was in ruins.

Bulma Brief (as many already knew and loved), was a proud woman. Perhaps a little stubborn, most certainly loud and she unknowingly demanded everyone's attention when she walked into a room (though at the same time, it wasn't entirely unknowingly and she loved every moment of it). No, she was not innocent, but that didn't make her evil, either. She was twenty-four years old, so of course, she'd lived a little and had done things that made her not-so-pure.

Saying that, all of the things she had previously done in her college years meant absolutely nothing compared to her current predicament. All-nighters, random hook-ups and partying until she literally passed out, had nothing on the mess they were in.

With the use of a glowing green button, Bulma signalled to those on board that they were due to land shortly. They'd been travelling for what felt like an eternity and she sighed deeply at the thought of escape, no matter how brief it may be. Anything would be welcomed wholeheartedly at that point, her restless body aching with the need to stretch properly. There was only so much that pilates could do for her, though she supposed it could be worse. She could be a half-Saiyan being denied proper exercise due to their cramped circumstances.

At her thoughts, said half-Saiyan entered the control room, followed closely by his mother. They moved straight to their seats, the woman tugging on her son's safety belts firmly before so much as considering her own safety, despite his protests of being able to strap himself in.

Was it sad that _that_ was what brightened her day? Seeing that bond between mother and son? Even though they were all miserable and lost in their grief, they acted so normal together that it _hurt_. It hurt to watch them, but it was a beautiful kind of pain. It brought back so many memories of their planet, of the times she'd shared with her family and friends. Many more memories could be made, but that all depended on whether or not they completed their mission.

"You in, Chi-Chi?"

Said woman nodded once, expression serious. They were sat side by side, with Gohan situated behind them and ever since entering space, Chi-Chi made it a habit of continuously glancing over her shoulder at him, like she was checking that he was still there, still sat in his seat and still safe – or as safe as he could be while on their current mission.

"Why are we landing, Miss Bulma?"

She couldn't answer immediately and knew he would understand once he heard her typing in commands and witnessed her gripping the steering wheel tightly, preparing herself for when she had to take control and land the ship. It was always a shaky event, requiring her full, undivided attention.

"We need more supplies and while we're at it, we should try gathering whatever information we can."

Narrowing her eyes when the ship broke through the atmosphere, she prepared herself, eyes glued to the monitor as it told her how far they were from the ground. At four hundred feet, she began to pull the steering wheel back, tilting it ever so slightly to the side, trying to control the shaking of her straining muscles. It was always difficult taking control.

"This is an exchange planet," she continued after a few moments, pretending not to notice the way Chi-Chi's grip intensified on the arms of her chair. Clearly she didn't know just how off putting that truly was. "But it's not like the others we've visited."

Her words distracted Chi-Chi from her silent terror, causing her eyes to narrow. "How is it different?"

The younger woman had every right to be suspicious after all they'd been through in recent months. The previous planets had been anything but nice and every time they visited a planet, more often than not, they left with new enemies. Aliens simply couldn't be trusted – hell, most humans weren't even trustworthy. However, it was those experiences that had a lasting effect on her and Chi-Chi hadn't been a trusting woman to start out with. Everything was taken with a pinch of salt, every possible outcome assessed before she put her darling son through anything that could potentially scar him or kill him.

"How can I best describe it?" she wondered aloud, though was forced to take more notice of the ship as she fought to remain in control, slowing their descent the best she could.

As always, it was a bumpy landing, however Bulma congratulated herself on the fact it was much smoother than the last time. The first time she tried landing the ship, they had been stuck for over seven hours due to the repairs that had been needed.

"Well?" pushed Chi-Chi and she heard her grip finally loosen on the chair, though one glance in her direction showed her that it would remember the death grip for a while, the indents in the leather annoying Bulma greatly.

"All the other planets were basically huge malls, right?" She didn't wait to hear their affirmatives. "Well, if the data I've been reading is correct, then this is more of a flea market. It says that only one race lives here, unlike the other places, but other races are welcome to shop and sell here."

Gohan frowned at that. "Are other races not welcome to live here?"

Taking an extra moment to type in a few commands, Bulma waited, watching as the tracker scanned for any hostile races. Eventually, it revealed that there were none. Everybody on the planet, not including Gohan, had a power level below one hundred. Sure, it would be an issue for herself, but for Gohan it was nothing. He was his father's son, after all. As for Chi-Chi, while she wasn't overly powerful, she was skilled enough to stand her ground.

"I'm not sure, kid," Bulma finally answered Gohan's question, unbuckling her safety belts. "I can only repeat the data the computer tells me." All data she was currently being fed from her computer was the data from Raditz's scouter – much to her delight, it continued to be updated regardless of his death and lack of communication, meaning it told her all she needed to know. Another few presses of buttons and she asked the computer, "What direction are the market stalls in?"

" _Detected market stalls forty-seven miles north, Miss Brief."_

Landing far from any detectable lifeforms was a must, they'd discovered after their first stop. People were savages and often times, desperate. If they couldn't use her ship – which they couldn't, due to the voice control – then they would break it apart and either sell the pieces or find uses for them.

While she could have asked Gohan to uses his senses to find the market stalls, he would only take them to the area with the largest population, since he couldn't identify the different areas. The ship could. During its descent, it captured photographs, of sorts. It helped them in finding where they needed to go.

Gohan, on the other hand, had taken them to a festival rather than the mall the last time he was in control. Okay, so Bulma would be lying if she said that it hadn't been fun and that it hadn't been nice to let her hair down after so long of nothing but business, but that was beside the point. Who knows where he could have taken them on the next planet? Tweaking Raditz's scouter and rewiring the mechanisms, inputting the data, had been a cinch.

Upon standing, Bulma reached over and grabbed her bag from the wall, tugging on it once it was across her body to make sure the strap wouldn't snap, as it had last time. _That_ hadn't been fun. Everything scattered over the ground, lost in the sea of people who trampled over her belongings like she was some kind of low class–

_Breathe,_ she warned herself. It did no good to allow her bratiness to take control. Not anymore.

"Remember, guys: we need to stick together. And if somebody's looking for trouble, stay calm. We can't afford to be noticed yet."

Approaching the door, she assessed the pair behind her, watching for a few moments as Chi-Chi fussed over Gohan's appearance. Despite his mother's protests, Gohan chose to wear an outfit he had created in memory of his first ever teacher: Piccolo. His previous one had been destroyed during the battle with the Saiyans, during the battle that had been the beginning of the end for their defenceless planet. As for Chi-Chi, she wore her usual outfits as they made very little difference to her ability to protect herself. She had no restrictions on her movements, and she was comfortable.

"Don't stray too far from me, Gohan," warned Chi-Chi, taking his hand and looking down at her son with a grim expression.

"Okay, Mom."

Poor kid was probably dying for fresh air and real exercise, Bulma thought sadly, stealing a glance at their cramped accommodations. They'd been cooped up on the ship for over six months now and were limited on space for training activities, especially for a child who was half-Saiyan. Chi-Chi did her best with him, trying to adapt for him, but it was difficult.

They all shielded their eyes from the harsh sun as the door finally opened with a swoosh, the insufferable heat causing Bulma to remove her jacket and toss it to her seat. A second later and she was reaching into her bag and pulling out a capsule, soon releasing it and slipping on a pair of sunglasses. She handed the other two pairs to the two behind her, but as always, Gohan smiled and politely refused. Being half-Saiyan allowed him to accustom to different climates ridiculously fast, they'd quickly learned during their journeys.

The sight before them was far from spectacular. It seemed to be nothing but a wasteland, covered completely in sand and the occasional weed for as far as the eye could see. Exhausting just to look at, if she was being honest. Knowing that the market stalls were only forty-seven miles away provided little comfort.

"There's a full moon tonight, so we'll need to be back way before sunset."

There was hesitation in Chi-Chi's movements, her dark eyes drawn towards the harsh sun. While Bulma wanted to say she understood the woman's concerns, she knew she couldn't possibly understand until she had children of her own – even then, she wouldn't know. The only man she had ever loved, possibly would ever love, was dead and she certainly wouldn't be getting knocked up by any leftover Saiyans. She'd only met one kind Saiyan and he was spoken for.

Blue eyes glanced at Gohan's tail, watching how it waved in the air, showing his nervousness. "If it comes down to it and we have to stay another night, we'll return to the ship long before the sun starts to set. You both know the drill from there."

What they had to do – what Gohan had to endure – wasn't pleasant, but it was necessary. Neither she nor Chi-Chi had the heart to remove Gohan's tail, for they both knew it would cause him excruciating agony. Instead, they'd come up with a plan in case they happened to become stranded on a planet during a full moon and that was a lockdown room. If they were stuck, Gohan was to go to a room where there were no windows or any influence from the blutz waves. Chi-Chi would stay with him until it was safe for him to leave, ensuring he didn't grow bored, hungry or thirsty. In other words: he was forced to study until his bedtime.

She threw a couple of capsules into the air and within seconds, two hoverbikes were released. Another had been in the makings for Gohan and was almost complete when Chi-Chi caught wind of her plans. All hell had broken loose after that and it was safe to say the bike remained unfinished.

Bulma threw her leg over the sleek, red bike and waited until Chi-Chi was on hers. There was a pause in Gohan mounting the bike as he put on the helmet his mother had forced her to make (regardless of the fact his head with thrice as hard as theirs), but as soon as it was on, he was sitting behind the dark haired woman and wrapping his arms around her securely.

"You guys ready?"

When she received her affirmative, Bulma couldn't help but grin as she switched on her bike and revved the engine. Sounded as sweet as always, though that was to be expected considering it was completely her own design.

She took the lead and shot off, enjoying the wind as it blew through her hair (yet thankful she'd tied half of it up and only left the lower half down). When Bulma noticed the other bike appear in the corner of her eye, she exchanged a competitive smirk with Chi-Chi, who was quick to return it and warned Gohan to hold on. Simultaneously, they both added more speed.

A cloud of dust, sand and dirt picked up behind them, spraying out across the expanse of the desert as they dashed across it. After being stuck in one area for so long, without being able to go out for fresh air, riding the hoverbikes really got their adrenaline rushing through their veins, livening them up once more. It was so exhilarating and part of the women wondered if it was how their warriors had felt when flying through the skies at top speed.

The reminder of her loved ones had Bulma's mood plummeting, but it soon picked up as they flew over sand dunes.

Gohan never truly enjoyed their racing, even though he did his best to make it seem like it did. Knowing that boy, like his father, he didn't want to dampen their enjoyment by making it appear as though he wasn't having the same sort of fun. They both understood why, too. It was due to the fact that he could fly at triple the speed her bikes travelled and to him, they were travelling slowly. Not once had he ever complained, however. Like his father, he cared for others' happiness rather than his own.

"There!" Gohan yelled over the winds.

She only barely picked up on what he had said, but seeing Chi-Chi slowing down had her reluctantly doing the same. Driving a little closer to the pair, she glanced over at them and raised an eyebrow.

"The town," he clarified. "I can see it."

Yes, so could she once Bulma was facing forward once more. It looked rundown and beat up, like there'd been many fierce battles that tore the place up time and time again. Somehow, it remained standing – somewhat. In her mind, Bulma dubbed it as the 'Stubborn Planet', since she was unable to understand or pronounce the true name of the planet.

She sped up before braking hard, going sideways as an indication that Chi-Chi was to stop. More sand picked up, spraying in front of her.

"We'll put the bikes away now," Bulma decided and hopped off her own, sealing it away within its capsule once more. "There's no telling how desperate these guys are for valuable goods to sell."

Oh, but they weren't.

The town appeared to be barely standing, but the market stalls were anything but. They were filled with expensive jewellery, exotic and amazing smelling food and intriguing parts for any kind of invention that came to Bulma's mind. Everything she spotted gave her more and more inspiration and she was practically thrumming with giddiness.

"This." Bulma all but threw her necklace at the young woman behind the stall. "I'll give you this necklace for this…" She tilted her head to the side, but then decided on holding the metal item up, smiling sheepishly. "This."

They knew she would be able to understand them, because not long after landing on the first planet they came across, Bulma had once more taken apart Raditz's scouter, examining it and all of its components, trying to work out how it was able to translate so many languages. It took a solid three weeks with hardly any sleep or food, but eventually, she managed to crack it.

Now, they all had earpieces and choker-styled necklaces that translated everything _they_ were saying, and everything the aliens were saying to them. It really came in handy. Once or twice, they'd been certain an alien was acting aggressively towards them, but it turned out they were simply super animated when they spoke.

"This…" The woman raised the necklace, inspecting it closely with her shockingly gold eyes before those eyes shot to Bulma's smug blue ones. "You have a deal."

It was worth way more than the metal part, but she had her plans on what to use it for. More than likely, the poor girl had no idea about what she was selling and what it could be used for, but Bulma did and the thought had her inwardly smirking. Just because she couldn't pronounce aliens words (or knew what to call them in her own language), it didn't mean she didn't know what they were. Her computer never let her down and she knew that, with the item she'd just acquired, she could create scouters for herself and Chi-Chi, who were unable to sense energy.

_Perfect!_

Not only that, but since taking Raditz's apart, she would now be able to tweak the circuits, making them more like the system in her ship.

Wait…

She could use the same system! It was incredibly useful and it would be great if she could keep the same voice, too. Soothing, calm and easy to understand even under scarily desperate situations.

"Thank you," she almost sang and walked away with a skip in her step.

They paused every now and then at different stalls, curious with what the vendors had to offer, until they moved along. Sometimes they purchased items, other times they were empty handed.

The heat of the planet fit with its new name, for the sun stubbornly shone down on them, beating them with its harsh rays. Gohan was less affected than Bulma and Chi-Chi due to his Saiyan genes, but even he began feeling the heat and asked if they could stop for a moment at a stall that held large bottles of different kinds of liquids.

"What's in them?" Chi-Chi asked the vendor and narrowed her eyes on the alien. The gender of the alien was unspecified and Bulma truly believed it could pass as either male or female. "Are they healthy? Safe? Poisonous?"

The alien held up its four hands and chuckled deeply, the sound contrasting sharply with its dainty appearance. To her, it looked like some kind of bug, but its voice was deep and grumbly. For a few moments, she was enraptured by the antenna twitching at their presence.

"I can assure you, ma'am, that my water is completely harmless."

Bulma had the urge to ask what gender the bug was, as the startling differences left her clueless. Knowing it was extremely rude to do so, however, she looked around until the stall behind them caught her attention.

"Here, I'll show you what ingredients I use."

Other shoppers were giving it a wide berth, not daring to so much as look in its direction even when the vendor called out that it was safe and Bulma couldn't help but feel curious. It was in her nature as a scientist to want to investigate and take things apart, after all.

" _Revenge is sweet,"_ the vendor called out loudly, trying to bring customers to his stall, but they were having none of it. " _So come and get yours today!"_

"Oh!" Chi-Chi exclaimed happily and even though she'd tuned the conversation out, Bulma's concentration broke and she turned to face them again, wondering what was so wonderful to cause such a reaction. "This is amazing and so refreshing. Gohan, here. Drink this." After handing her son the sample, she looked up at the bug vendor again, smiling brightly. "We'll take as much as we can get with… _this_!"

Part of Bulma wanted to scold Chi-Chi for using real money, especially such a large amount. It had taken a ridiculous amount of time converting Earth money to a currency that was supposedly spendable on _every_ planet in the universe. They had more back on the ship, but it had to last and they had no idea how long they'd be in space for. It was why she went as far as to selling her precious jewellery for parts and anything else that wasn't necessary but wanted.

" _C'mon! It's not often ya get to see this sorta thing."_

The vendor behind them was yelling again, she realised belatedly once Chi-Chi had purchased a good third of the bug's stock. That woman was so lucky she brought empty capsules with them, otherwise she would have forced her to carry it all herself. Like hell she'd help out.

When they set off walking, her interest was once more piqued, as was Gohan's and Chi-Chi's.

She paused in her walk and took a step back, leaning to look closer into the mysterious stall and even slipping her sunglasses down her nose to see over the tinted lenses. It had such a dark atmosphere surrounding it, but it didn't seem to affect the vendor standing in front of it proudly and unlike other stalls, there was no table, just a tent that was dark inside except for the single ray of light that came from the outside.

It wasn't until the light breeze picked up, causing the tent opening to billow that she saw what was inside. For a second, she raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was hallucinating due to the severe temperature. But then dark eyes met hers and she _knew_ it was real, causing her to shriek and jump backwards, straight into Chi-Chi and Gohan, who were just as stunned.

"It's… I-It's Vegeta!" Gohan cried, though soon fell into a defensive stance in front of them both, teething gritting. "But what's he doing here?"


	3. Where The Lost Are The Heroes

**Chapter 2**

**Where The Lost Are The Heroes**

* * *

"What the hell are you thinking?" she yelled at the seller, ignoring the shoppers who suddenly turned to see what was happening. Once they realised where she was standing, however, they moved on at a fast pace, determined on getting away while they still could. Apparently it wasn't the first time the vendor had someone yelling at him. "Do you know who that is?"

From within the stall, Vegeta sat up straighter, his eyes fixed on them in a way that sent shivers down their spines. They were so intense, so endless with their rage and hatred. Something was different about him, though. Even though she'd only seen him on a screen, even she could pick up on the difference, so it didn't surprise her when she took a step forward that Gohan bravely moved with her. He must have picked up on what she had, because he was frowning up at her the next moment when Vegeta looked away languidly.

"He won't be a bother to no-one." The vendor smirked and pointed over his shoulder at the Saiyan. "Found him unconscious in his pod, ya know and I haven't let 'im heal one hundred percent. I'm no idiot."

Then…

"What purpose do you have in keeping him back there?" Gohan unknowingly voiced her thoughts and his frown deepened.

"A saiyan heals faster than any other race," Chi-Chi argued hotly and her hands came to Gohan's shoulders, fingers digging in like she was physically able to hold him back. "My Goku was always getting beat up-"

Once more, Vegeta's eyes met theirs and despite his exhaustion being obvious for all to see, hatred caused those dark eyes to harden.

"Then again…" snarled Chi-Chi at his silent interruption. "He deserves to rot here on this planet after all he did to ours. He's the reason my husband is gone." Her eyes held just as much hatred as Vegeta's when they returned to the vendor's, narrowing dangerously. "Make sure he suffers."

"Mom," Gohan gasped and turned to face her, trying to calm his mother down. "That's not what Dad would want."

"I don't care what he would want. That man was too naïve and kind-hearted for his own good and look where it got him." Chi-Chi huffed and turned her back on the stall, folding her arms over her chest stubbornly. "I refuse to even acknowledge that… that… _murderer!"_

The vendor was at a loss for words until he shook his head and grinned at Bulma, stepping to the side and raising the flap on the tent to reveal more of Vegeta. "How 'bout it? Get ya revenge!"

How barbaric. Bulma could tell that Gohan's thoughts mirrored her own, because he scowled up at the vendor.

"He may be a bad man, but he's still a person," he argued with the same conviction she'd often heard in his father's voice. It was nostalgic to hear, allowing Bulma to push aside her own personal issues with the saiyan. "What you're doing is wrong."

In the tent, Vegeta's eyes narrowed further and Bulma felt suffocated in his presence.

However, she…

She had questions.

"Oh no you don't," exclaimed Chi-Chi when Gohan tried to follow her into the tent. She grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back to her, glaring at him. "There's no way you're going in there."

"But, Mom, we can't let Miss Bulma go in there by herself."

"Bulma is a grown woman who can handle herself."

"That's _Vegeta_ , Mom," Gohan yelled incredulously, uncaring for the scene they were creating.

"And _you're_ my baby boy," she yelled just as loudly.

"Shut it, both of you." As always, her voice boomed over theirs and she towered over them both, clenching her right fist. She would've clenched the other, but she'd taken her sunglasses off and would rather not break them. Taking a calmer breath once she had their attention, Bulma continued, "Gohan, your mom has every right to say you can't go in there. That's the guy who murdered all our friends."

His eyes dropped and he nodded. "Yes, Miss Bulma."

Part of her felt bad for shouting at him as his little expression crumbled and she sighed. "Look, I'm grateful that you're willing to defend me, but think about it, kid: this guy has to have some kind of hold over Vegeta, right? Otherwise, he'd be petrified, too."

The conviction behind her words seemed to brighten his mood, thankfully and when Gohan nodded again, it was more enthusiastically. Even Chi-Chi appeared to be soothed by the thought, because she released a breath Bulma hadn't been aware she'd been holding.

"Be careful, Bulma," Chi-Chi warned her. "He's still dangerous."

She grinned, showing confidence and strength that she didn't feel and brushed the hair off her shoulder. "Aren't I always?"

Her words discomforted the other woman, but Bulma didn't give her a chance to reply because she suddenly spun around and strutted into the tent, refusing to let her fear make her pause.

Basic survival instinct screamed at her to flee when she entered the darkened tent, but she stood tall, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness and the pause allowed her to take note of several things that calmed her fear. The first thing she noticed was that Vegeta wasn't moving any time soon, not while he was in _that_ state. The next was the familiar thrum of electricity that she could hear coming from the chains keeping him prisoner.

_Barbaric._

Bulma didn't care for him. In fact, she'd never felt a hatred so strong before in her life. Not even during the flash sale at her favourite boutique, when some desperate wretch realised she could afford the luxurious clothing of wealthy people and tried tackling her for a dress. However, Gohan's earlier words repeated in her mind, reminding her that what she was witnessing, wasn't what Goku wanted to happen when he spared Vegeta's life. All in honesty, none of them had the slightest clue what the hell Goku had wanted to happen, but _this_ wouldn't have been it.

Maybe it was karma? Maybe the guy outside had every right to offer Vegeta up on a silver platter for others to take their anger out on? After all, he'd done a lot of bad things – that was putting it lightly.

But there was a compassionate side of Bulma that felt like all of it was just… unforgivable. It made them no better than the one sitting in the chains.

Dark eyes never left hers for a moment as she approached him and after calculating the length of the chains and how much he'd be able to move, should he be able to, she sat down in front of Vegeta slowly. The silence was unbearable, but she couldn't come up with a single thing to say to the guy who was semi responsible for the death of her lover and friends.

The tent was small and stunk to high heavens of sweat and blood and _pain_. Laying around them carelessly were many items and she presumed they were weapons, given the fact a few of them seemed relatively familiar and each was coated in more blood than the last. One even had savagely torn off skin that had caught–

_Gross,_ she inwardly screeched, looking away quickly and diving straight in to take her mind off the weapon.

"How long have you been here?"

Silence.

All he did was stare.

Bulma frowned.

"The least you can do is answer me," she accused quietly.

"I owe you nothing," he spat in return, but then his eyes hardened and he silenced himself from saying more.

Nothing?

_Nothing?_

"You murdered the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with," Bulma suddenly yelled in response to the pain in her heart, slamming her hands into the ground and leaning forward, eyes spitting fire at him. "You murdered people I care for and then beat the hell out of my best friend and his son. So don't you dare sit there, all high and mighty and refuse to answer me, you damned son of a bitch."

Much to her surprise, a ghost of a smirk showed on his lips. "Let me guess, you're on your way to Namek to wish them all back?"

The rage washing through her began slipping into sorrow and anguish, no matter how hard she tried to hide her pain from him. "Namek is gone," Bulma muttered and her nails scraped through the dirt floor, regardless of the fact that it meant dirty nails. "The dragonballs are gone." Her head lowered and she bit her lip. "My friends are really gone this time."

There was silence from the prince and Bulma sucked in a breath, willing herself to calm down. Losing their only shot at getting them back had crushed her inside, but there was still work to be done, meaning she couldn't sit around crying just yet. That had to wait until she was in bed.

"Then what are you doing away from your planet, foolish human?"

"What planet?" she laughed quietly and without humour. On the dirt by her hands, a single drop fell, soaking the dirt. So much for composure. "It's… not ours anymore."

She didn't see his eyes narrow but noticed him shift as he leaned closer and when Bulma looked up helplessly, she saw the way he looked at the tears on her face, saw the way he watched her eyes.

"Explain yourself."

She swallowed hard, trying to swallow the sob that was fighting its way up her throat. "Not long after you left… some guy came to the planet. No, five guys. They said they'd been sent after you and the bald guy who was with you, but when they heard Goku had defeated you both…"

Thankfully, Vegeta seemed to catch on easily. "They took him."

Her expression crumbled, just as Gohan's had outside. "We barely escaped with Gohan. Goku fought them for as long as he could, he tried to keep them away from Gohan and Krillin did his best to help."

His eyes narrowed further than what they'd already been and they looked outside, looked to the young boy who was trying to see inside the tent. "He wouldn't have survived long in Frieza's clutches."

"Frieza?"

In less than a second, those dark eyes were on hers again and Vegeta seemed to be coming to life again, because he was sitting taller. His eyes were sharper. His arms shifted, the muscles in them rippling. Even in his state, his stance conveyed the royalty in his blood. His regal expression demanded her subordination, reminding her of the ruthless prince who'd been hellbent on slaughtering her friends.

It made her feel inferior – a feeling she _despised_ more than anything, because like hell she would ever be anyone's inferior.

"You mean to tell me you left your planet without knowing who it is you're running from?"

Anger was coming back to her. "We didn't exactly stop to have a chat, you know. Lucky for us, me and my dad had already been working on the spaceship Mr Popo gave to us." As always, she had to chuck in her usefulness and incredible intellect, stating haughtily, "It wasn't even finished, either. I had to work on bits as we travelled and even now, I haven't smoothed everything out."

"How long have you been travelling for?" he questioned, taking in her appearance. "You look as though you have only just left Earth."

She felt like smirking, because that was exactly what she'd been hoping to hear. Appearances always mattered in her mind. "It's been six months," Bulma told him. "The plan was to go straight to Namek, of course, but we had to stop at a planet to get some parts for the ship and it delayed our arrival by two weeks. By the time we got there, Namek was gone."

"Now what is your plan?"

Once more, her eyes fell from his. However, this time it was because she was gazing over her shoulder at the two outside. She looked back to him a second later. "I'm trying to stay positive for them both. Goku wasn't even healed from his battle with you when we were attacked and cities started being destroyed. They said the planet would make a profit and we knew that we didn't stand a chance."

Vegeta didn't seem surprised in the least. "Then what is your plan, human?"

"We decided to try and track Goku using Gohan's ability to sense energy. He was still alive when he left, just unconscious. He's not on Earth anymore, but we don't know where he is."

"He will be with Frieza."

There was that name again. The freaks who conquered Earth said it and now Vegeta had mentioned the name. Who the hell was Frieza and why was her best friend with him?

"Who is Frieza?" she demanded.

His eyes stuck to hers, refusing to break the connection as he stared her down. It wasn't a glare like she'd been expecting, though. No, this expression was scarier because of how harshly honest it was. It caused her heart to leap into her throat, her entire body growing cold.

"Your planet is gone," Vegeta replied. "That is what Frieza does. He sends his soldiers out to conquer planets so that he can sell them for profits."

"So everyone on Earth is…?"

"Anyone who is not deemed as useful will have been exterminated."

" _No_ ," Bulma gasped, horrified and her hands clasped over her mouth, holding back the sudden sob that finally broke free. "My mom… my dad…!"

He didn't look away. He didn't blink or shut his eyes. But unlike her nightmares of him, he didn't relish her suffering. If anything, he appeared to be immune to it. "Dead."

"But… But maybe he might've…?"

"No," he cut her off with a growl. "It is not in his nature to spare anyone unless they are useful to him."

She swallowed hard, trying to smother her pain and sorrow. Her entire family… All her friends… They were all dead. She and Chi-Chi were the only full blood humans left. It felt so lonely.

It reminded her of Goku's feral brother's words, how carelessly he'd informed them of his own planet's destruction.

"Is that what he did to you?"

Vegeta's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he still answered, "Yes."

Tears filled her eyes. "You said he would have taken Goku," Bulma recalled. "Does that mean he's okay?"

There was a pause in his reply. "He is alive."

No. Nothing would break Goku. Somehow, he'd find a way out of Frieza's hold. No matter what that Frieza guy pulled on him, no matter what he did, Goku would not break and he wouldn't change who he was. He just couldn't. It would destroy Chi-Chi and Gohan if he suddenly became more like Vegeta. It would break _her._

"Do you know where he is?" Bulma asked, her voice almost desperate. "Frieza or Goku, I don't care which. We need Goku to get our planet back."

"You plan on facing Frieza?" Vegeta threw his head back and laughed, only to wince and tense up, his body trying to tremble. "You… must have a death wish." When he looked back to her, one of his eyes was shut tightly, the other just barely able to stay open and his breathing was heavy. "He will kill you on sight, that is if he doesn't take a liking to your… appearance."

Dread ran down her spine. It wasn't the first time somebody had mentioned something along those lines. Her father had always warned her about how a beautiful girl like herself could be preyed on and attacked, since it wasn't exactly unheard of to happen in certain areas of her city. Now, however, when staring a powerful alien like Vegeta in the face and seeing the state he was in… It felt like more than just a warning. It felt like a threat. A promise.

"What do you suggest?" she questioned softly, unable to add any more volume to her voice.

His expression was serious. It was deadly.

"Get me out of here and I will assist you."


	4. But Everyone Knows By Now

**Chapter 3**

**But Everyone Knows By Now**

* * *

Get him… out…

How could…

"Are you _crazy?"_ she hissed, warily keeping her voice down as she looked around them nervously, certain she was about to end up in the same position as he was. "I can't do _that!_ "

If the vendor didn't try to kill her for releasing Vegeta, then surely the saiyan would be the one who actually killed her somewhere down the line? After all, if this was where he landed after his battle with Goku and the others, then that meant they were partly to blame for his current predicament. Surely he was feeling angry about that? Surely he would want revenge, even if she wasn't the one who wronged him?

And what about the fact that he had _caused the deaths of her friends?_ She sure as hell was feeling angry about that.

He had caused the death of Yamcha.

Bulma simmered down into her place and folded her legs beneath herself as she thought about the situation rationally, pushing aside her feelings. Making impulsive decisions, allowing her hatred to consume her, was way too easy to do. At the end of the day, he was stuck and so were they. With the way things were currently going for herself, Chi-Chi and Gohan, then she truly believed deep in her heart that they were going to die in the middle of space, without moving a single step forward in reclaiming their planet or retrieving Goku. It'd been six months so far and the only move they'd taken was a huge step backwards when they found out the planet Namek was destroyed.

With the way things were currently going for him…

She looked him up and down, taking in his tattered uniform and bruised, cut up body. It seemed the vendor was telling the truth in never allowing Vegeta to completely heal and his way of doing that was by adding more injuries to his endless list. There was hardly anything left of his armour, leaving him practically naked.

…And incredibly smelly, Bulma thought and resisted the urge to cover her nose.

"What?" he demanded irritably.

"N-Nothing!"

His eyes narrowed into slits.

Bulma once more glanced around herself, asking thoughtfully, "How would I even go about it? Would I have to buy you like you're some kind of slave?"

The thought obviously pissed him off, due to the way his expression darkened, but he fortunately didn't blow a gasket on her and instead answered gruffly, "You will have to break me out."

Her eyes snapped to his, widening in horror. "B-Break you out?" She shook her head, forcing the shock and horror away. "No way. You'd kill us and steal my ship."

He smirked. "Believe me, the thought is tempting, but I won't do that."

"How can I trust you?"

"Trust?" Again, he barked out a laugh. "Don't say such absurd things, human. There is no trust in a world like this, just like there is no hope."

No hope or trust… Again, Bulma shook her head. There wasn't a chance that she would let him play tricks with her mind. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. It was all that kept them going. They had to have hope.

They both paused at the sound of electricity growing louder momentarily, but for different reasons, she realised belatedly. While she had paused curiously, Vegeta had paused and tensed up, body visibly trembling from what Bulma could only guess as a shock of electricity. It wouldn't be enough to cause significant damage, but it would sure as hell hurt.

"If… you want to be sure I will not betray you… then make it so that I can't."

Why was he making the situation more difficult for himself, rather than easier? He could have assured her that she could trust him, that he wouldn't kill them all and steal her spaceship, but instead he was telling her how to force him into cooperating with her.

"How?" asked Bulma with a frown.

It was almost comical how reluctantly Vegeta gestured to the choker around his neck and then to the two around his wrists. "I am sure you can guess what these are." When she could only nod once, horrified, he muttered, "They are set to a level where my body can just about manage the pain. Anything less and I can tolerate and endure it."

Forcing him into submission. Why was the thought… strangely appealing? After all he'd done to her friends and planet, the thought of holding his life in the palm of her hand, controlling him, was appealing. But Bulma knew that that would make her no better than the vendor outside.

"And as long as you're wearing those and I have the controls, you can't betray us."

He nodded once. "Exactly."

"Why?" she demanded after a moment of thinking about it. "Why would you agree to something like this?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, like the answer was ridiculously obvious. "What choice do I have, little human? Either I rot in this cesspit or I agree to the lesser of two evils and get the hell out of here."

"And Earth?" asked Bulma hopefully. "You'll fight for Earth?"

His upper lip curled. "Hardly. That backwards, primitive planet can burn in hell for all I care. However, I will be the one to defeat Frieza."

Meaning the Earth would then be freed.

Meaning Vegeta was her lesser of two evils.

It was either side with him and go up against Frieza, or stay stuck where they were.

They were using each other, in other words. Vegeta knew he wouldn't be able to escape this God forsaken planet without her ship and she knew they didn't stand a chance in hell of defeating Frieza without him.

Bulma bit her lip before releasing it and taking a deep breath, shortly nodding in response.

It seemed she would have to make a deal with the devil.

"Okay," she eventually found her voice and replied. "Okay, I'll do it. I'll help you escape."

"Terms?"

Of course he'd want the terms and conditions. He seemed like the kind of guy to sit through the crap anybody else would skip through. "You keep those cuffs and the choker on."

"Deal."

"You are not to attack or kill anyone other than Frieza and his loyal soldiers."

His eyes slipped to the side and she could almost _hear_ the murderous and absolutely livid thoughts he was having about the vendor.

She chose to distract him before that anger turned on her. "I'm guessing those things steal your energy too, right?" He nodded once, still glaring holes into the vendor's back. "The more I can trust that you won't murder us, I will gradually give you your energy back."

That was why it was so easy for the vendor to keep him under control, then. Even though he was taller than Vegeta, he was much skinnier and wouldn't last a minute with the saiyan. Even if he was powerful, Vegeta was stronger. She couldn't imagine anyone stronger than the ruthless prince. Not after that battle with Goku. Not after witnessing the destruction he left in his wake.

"There's only two bedrooms on the ship, not including Gohan's lockdown room. If you don't mind staying in there-"

"I don't need a bed."

Wow, was that supposed to be impressive? Any idiot in their right mind would want a decent night of sleep after being injured and tortured for as long as he had been. Rest was the best way to heal, that was what her mother always said whenever Bulma was sick, or like the time she broke her wrist in the lab.

There was always…

No, they needed them for emergencies.

But didn't this count as an emergency? What if they needed Vegeta at full strength? There could be a battle of some kind, one they'd lose if he wasn't strong enough. They needed him at his very best – or in this case, Bulma thought as she eyed him up, his very worst. He was ridiculously powerful, sure, but he was also the worst kind of person out there.

He was the best guy for the job.

He was ten times stronger than Gohan was and both herself and Chi-Chi had noticed the leap in power Gohan gained once he was healed. Would that happen for Vegeta, too? Was it a saiyan thing?

Wait… Gohan!

"You can't fight with Gohan, either," Bulma suddenly added and she pinned him with a serious expression. "I know there's a history there-"

"History or not, I have no quarrel with Kakarot's son." Vegeta even huffed with amusement. "He will be useful if we are going to be facing Frieza."

Her eyes once more moved towards the opening of the tent, hoping and praying that Chi-Chi didn't hear his words. "Just don't be telling Goku's wife _that_."

The amusement left and was exchanged for annoyance, however, he said nothing.

"So, we just have to break you out, huh?" Bulma leaned forward once more, not daring to get any closer to inspect the chains keeping the prince still. Not without his permission, anyway. She had no doubts that he could still kill her if she made a single wrong move. "Mind if I take a closer look?"

_Please don't kill me._

Even after he nodded his consent and folded his arms over his chest, a clear indication that he meant no harm, Bulma still felt a pang of fear in her chest as she shuffled over to him, close enough to feel the heat of his body. His eyes were glued on hers as her hands came up to his neck, hesitantly reaching out for the contraption.

"Don't," he suddenly warned.

She froze, hands hovering over the choker. "W-What is it?"

"You will be electrocuted if you touch the device, stupid woman," Vegeta snapped, narrowing his eyes on her. "It is set to cause me, a saiyan, pain. You are a weak human."

_Asshole!_

_But still, please don't kill me._

Bulma nodded and lowered her hands, hesitating for just a moment as she watched his expression before touching the metal chains wrapped around the lengths his arms. Immobilising, definitely, however… It looked more like barbed wire rather than chains, now that she was taking a closer look. Every move Vegeta made, it cut deeper and deeper into his skin with the spikes that held the chains in place around his arms.

"My ship said that this planet was inhabited by one race, but I've seen at least seventeen different races so far," she stated lightly, trying to fill the silence. "Are they just visitors, or…?"

He caught onto her hidden meaning. "I have been here for months now after my pod crash landed while I was on life support. I had no way of stopping it."

Months. That meant the information her ship's system had was wrong, then, unless the vendors had permits to stay for periods of time.

"They come and go, staying for as long as they please," he answered her unasked question.

The chains were going to be difficult to remove, Bulma noted after a moment of inspecting them. They were embedded deeply into his skin, tugging under the flesh and tearing it up. It was a gruesome sight and it turned her stomach, but lately she'd seen hell and somehow managed to hold down the contents of her stomach.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, she sat up onto her knees, leaning over him as she tried to find what the chains were connected to. If Vegeta found the lack of space between them uncomfortable, then he was silent about it. From the looks of things, Bulma was guessing that they were connected to the ground, since there weren't any chains on view, other than the ones on his body.

"Does it hurt to move?"

"Of course not," he snapped.

Bulma paused, worried about their proximity and whether or not she'd just pissed him off, but then rolled her eyes when nothing more was said or done. Stubborn. That was all he was! Stubborn and proud. There was every possibility that it hurt to even breathe, however, since he was being such a stubborn jerk about it all, he could suck it up and deal with it.

She pulled back slightly, taking in his features and frowning.

"That vendor isn't going to give you to me."

"Use that," Vegeta nodded his head in the direction of a stick.

Turning on her knees, she crawled forward. "This thing?" She picked it up and pulled a face. "You sure this will do any damage?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to see the effects it has when used properly?"

Another threat… or was it? Bulma shivered.

She wasn't against using force in order to get something she wanted and in this case, she wanted Vegeta – well, his strength. They needed it in order to complete their mission in finding Goku and taking the Earth back.

Her eyes narrowed as her hold tightened on the stick, soon glancing over in the direction of the vendor. The man wasn't facing them and seemed to be talking with Gohan, who was looking aggravated with what he was hearing. It didn't surprise her. That boy was his father's son, after all. He wanted everyone to receive fair treatment, even bad guys like Vegeta.

Would Gohan and Chi-Chi agree with her decision?

Biting her lip, Bulma once more shuffled over to Vegeta, watching him suspiciously as she placed the stick behind him so that it was hidden from view. He huffed, seemingly amused by her actions.

"It's Bulma, by the way."

The amusement left, his dark gaze meeting hers. "What?"

"You keep calling me 'human'," she told him with a roll of her eyes, "but my name is 'Bulma' and I would appreciate it if you called me by my name."

"You are pushing your luck," he snarled in response and leaned in as close as he could. "I have already agreed to keeping this contraption on. Do not force me to see you as my equal."

The stench was too much to handle and she had to back away, unfortunately. In any other circumstance, she wouldn't have and would have instead gotten right back in his face, glaring at him hatefully and snarling her own retort, regardless of the fact that he was a psychopathic murderer. She was not inferior or a weakling to be pushed around.

She gritted her teeth. " _Fine_ , but don't expect me to call you by your name, either."

"Oh, please, anything but that," Vegeta spat, a sly smirk pulling at his lips.

"Rotten saiyan."

"Weakling human."

"No, I mean it." Bulma smirked, placing her hands on her hips as she stood up straight, only daring to say such things now that there was distance between them. "You sure do stink, saiyan."

"I wonder why," he remarked coolly.

Oh, he was impossible.

Turning to face the exit, she sighed arrogantly, "Well, I'm going to go and buy you now, so don't go anywhere."

Bulma could hear his angered response, could hear him gritting his teeth and tsking under his breath as he tilted his head in another direction, but she paid him no mind, already channelling her unrivalled confidence to charm the vendor.

"Hey," she called cheerfully, waving once the vendor was facing her curiously. "I need to speak with you a second."

Behind him, she noticed both Chi-Chi and Gohan eyeing her warily, wondering what she could possibly want to speak with him about. There was something in Gohan's eyes, however, that told her he was catching on. For a six-year-old boy, he was incredibly intelligent and observant – she could totally understand why Chi-Chi pushed him so hard in his studies. There was so much potential there.

She simply nodded once to him and his eyes brightened with hope, but somehow, at the same time, darkened with worry. Clearly, he was torn between following in his father's footsteps, or listening to his mother. It didn't matter what Chi-Chi had to say, though. If she disagreed with her decision, then that was tough and she would have to deal with it, because she _never_ backed out of a deal. They needed Vegeta. Even Gohan understood that.

As soon as the light was blocked by the vendor, Bulma stood up straight, settling him with her best business expression. It was the one that let others know that she was serious.

"How much for the saiyan?"

The vendor was much taller than herself and it seemed she hadn't been paying the greatest of attention to him, because he wasn't actually that skinny. No, he was actually kind of muscular (especially when compared to her), his body easily blocking out the light from outside when he stood in front of the opening of the tent. Going off his appearance, however, Bulma was willing to bet that he wasn't exactly swimming in money. Everyone broke at a certain number and she was certain she had enough to break him.

"He ain't for sale," he replied, though was clearly startled. "What you want 'im for, anyways?"

_What did she want him for?_

Something in the back of her mind was warning Bulma not to mention them taking on Frieza. If he truly was as strong as he was made out to be, then the last thing they needed was the element of surprise being taken from them.

"What do _you_ think?" she retorted and raised an eyebrow. "This jerk has caused a lot of problems on my planet. I can think of a thing or two that he could do to start his road to redemption."

She could have sworn she heard Vegeta scoff, but the sudden laugh the vendor released made it difficult to tell.

"Redemption? Ya must be mad. There ain't no soul or heart to redeem."

Her jaw clenched, much like her fists. "Everyone has a shot at redemption, I'll have you know."

"Yeah, but he ain't anybody, he's a saiyan. The prince of 'em, I'll 'ave you know."

_Oh, don't give the bastard an ego boost._ Already, it seemed to be stupidly large.

"Have you taken into consideration that there's a full moon tonight?" Bulma questioned haughtily and folded her arms over her ample chest.

"He ain't got no tail."

The reminder had his lip curling, but she ignored him. "True, but that boy outside is also saiyan and we gave up on removing his tail because it keeps growing back. It happens to any saiyan who is under a stressful circumstance." She sat down, leaning closer to Vegeta to try and prove a point, her bravado working to suppress her fear. He did not argue or react. "And like you said: you're looking at the Prince of Saiyans here, buddy." Glancing up at her apparent partner in crime, Bulma raised an eyebrow. "How long do you give it, Vegeta? I'd say as soon as the moon starts to rise and your body senses the blutz waves, your tail will come flying out of your ass in no time."

He huffed. "Crude woman." A second later, however and he was smirking up at the vendor darkly, sending shiver after obvious shiver up and down his spine. "With the tail comes a power up and just so you know, the first thing I will do after breaking out of these confinements is tear you to pieces, but not before I show you how to really torture a person, pitiful fool."

A cold sweat broke across her body and she intervened just as the man reached for a weapon laying across the room. "I'll take him with me. We have a special room we usually use for Gohan during the full moons and he can stay locked in there." Then, a bolt of lightning hit her and she suddenly blurted out, "Frieza will be looking for him, right?"

By her side, Vegeta stiffened and she felt his rage building. It was palpable in the air.

She resisted the urge to move away, despite her instincts screaming at her to run.

"How long will it be before he tracks Vegeta down?" Her eyes narrowed threateningly. "And I bet he won't be happy with you for keeping one of his strongest soldiers locked down here."

"F-Frieza…?"

"Yeah." Bulma winked at the vendor, wagging a finger in the air. "I can take him off your hands and Frieza will never have to know about your involvement with him."

He shook his head stubbornly, his light coloured hair flopping with the motion. "No deal! If he was that important, Frieza would'a come lookin' for 'im by now."

The guy's accent was really beginning to grind on her nerves, though she knew it was only because she wasn't getting her own way. "Listen here." Her hand slid behind the prince, gripping the stick. "You're going to give me Vegeta. He's coming with me whether you like it or not."

When the guy took a threatening step forward, Bulma stood up, revealing her weapon and holding it in front of herself. She merely hoped Gohan and Chi-Chi weren't watching her violence.

"No, you ain't takin' 'im anywhere!"

"Now, Bulma," Vegeta growled.

She took it as her opening to attack.

"I said…" she growled and tightened her hold on the stick, swinging it with all her might. _"He's coming with me!"_


	5. Fairy Tales Are Not Found

**Chapter 4**

**Fairy Tales Are Not Found**

* * *

The _thwack_ that followed had her cringing, as did the tensing of the vendor's body as it flushed red and an obvious strain began to show until he fell to the ground. First onto his knees, then onto his face.

The stick dropped from her shaking hand as though she'd been burned and Bulma swallowed hard, trying to ignore the twisting of her suddenly unsettled stomach.

"Don't be getting weak on me," Vegeta warned darkly from behind her. "Grab the remote from his pocket and lower the settings enough for me to be able to move."

" _Gohan, I said no!"_

"Miss Bulma, are you okay?"

Light blinded her and she raised her hand instinctively, shielding her eyes from the brightness. Poor Vegeta could only squint as he attempted to adjust to the light. Soon, though, there were two more figures standing in the opening of the tent and the blinding sun disappeared, their eyes widening with horror as they put two and two together.

"Bulma, what do you think you're doing?" gasped Chi-Chi and her hold tightened on her son's shoulders, keeping him close to her.

"What does it look like?" She forced herself to move, to approach the motionless vendor. "I'm taking Vegeta back to the ship."

"What?" As expected, she was yelling. "Have you lost your mind?"

"He knows where Goku might be, Chi-Chi," Bulma argued with a grunt as she searched through the man's pockets. The first thing she came across were a set of keys and she held them up to the saiyan. "Are these for your chains?" He nodded once and she then continued her search for the controls. "Found them."

As soon as the remote was in her hand, Bulma shoved it into her pocket and turned around once more, facing Vegeta and making her way over to him.

"What makes you think we can trust him?"

Blue eyes clashed with black and she saw him raise an eyebrow at her, one she mirrored. "We can't," she replied easily. "But he's our best shot of getting our planet and Goku back."

Surely, Chi-Chi would have had more to say, but Gohan silenced her by saying, "Think about it, Mom. We might actually get somewhere with him."

So Gohan had been thinking along the same lines as herself, then. Bulma huffed under her breath and raised her hands, the keys jingling quietly between herself and Vegeta.

"I'm going to release you, but don't you dare even think about attacking us. My ship runs off voice commands in a language you certainly won't know how to speak, meaning you _need_ me to get off this rock."

His eyes narrowed. "Just hurry the hell up, human. You haven't killed him, so you should be acting as though he will wake up at any moment, even if he doesn't."

"Stupid saiyan," Bulma muttered and lowered herself, assessing the chains again to try and find the lock.

"Annoying human."

The hand that wasn't holding onto the keys clenched tightly and her eyebrow ticked, but she held back the urge to scream and shout at him. Instead, she continued with her search until she found what she was looking for. The lock was on his back, in a place that would be difficult for him to reach should he have ever found himself with access to the keys. Well, if Vegeta still had a tail, it would have been a piece of cake for him to unlock the chains, but not without it.

It took all of five seconds to unlock it, but she hesitated in removing them, watching Vegeta warily. "This is going to hurt. I–"

"Lower the damn settings already so that I can move."

Geez, and people thought _she_ was hot-headed and bad tempered. Grabbing the remote from her pocket, she glanced over it and was surprised to find the controls were easy enough to understand. Ignoring Chi-Chi's angered yells from behind her and ignoring the fact that Gohan was having to hold her back, Bulma lowered the settings, though not before expressing her disgust at how high it was. The damn thing was high enough to bring an elephant down with a single shock.

The effect was obvious as Vegeta could suddenly breathe more easily. Just as she was about to assist with removing the barbed chains from within his skin, however, he shoved her aside and beat her to it by simply ripping it away. He didn't even wince at the pain he caused himself.

Gohan grimaced and Bulma couldn't even blame him for it.

"Only _I_ will have access to this," she stated clearly, waving the remote in the air as Vegeta stood up. "So you don't have to worry about Chi-Chi targeting you with it."

"Like she could do much harm."

Even now, he was trying to act like a tough guy. Even when his body was littered in so many injuries that it made Bulma feel lightheaded just looking at him. How the hell he could stand and talk back to her, she'd never know. It had to take strength she didn't even know the beginning of. That or he was just plain stupid and stubborn.

"Bulma, please listen to me," Chi-Chi tried to get through to her, her voice almost desperate when she began to realise her anger didn't work on Bulma. "This man is the reason why we lost everyone. We both lost the men we were going to spend the rest of our lives with, as well as all of our friends."

She shot a dark look over her shoulder at the younger woman, narrowing her eyes at her. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I understand how much it _hurts?_ " demanded Bulma angrily. "I was with Yamcha for a hell of a lot longer than you have been married to Goku – count yourself lucky that your husband is more than likely still alive."

Her words silenced Chi-Chi.

They stunned Gohan.

"He's… He's definitely still alive?" he whispered hopefully.

It was Vegeta who responded after Bulma prompted him to with a single look. "Frieza enjoys collecting anyone who will be of use to him. Chances are he even has the bald headed one who fought with you on Earth."

"Krillin," Gohan commented. "His name is Krillin."

"Like I care," he muttered then looked to Bulma. "We should go now, since I can tell you will all be against finishing this guy off."

The hatred in Vegeta's eyes _screamed_ that he wanted to do more than merely leave the vendor unconscious on the floor of his tent. His hatred oozed out of him, threatening to suffocate her and the others and Bulma knew that that was their cue to leave.

"I'll release the bikes outside of the tent," she informed the others. "We'll drive slowly through the market then floor it once we hit the desert, got it?" After a moment of hesitation, Bulma's eyes met with Vegeta's once more. "You'll be riding with me."

He nodded once.

"I don't get it," hissed Chi-Chi. "Why are you going along with this? Why are you letting her use your power at her disposal like it's her latest toy?"

The words seemed to aggravate Vegeta and part of Bulma wanted to scream at her to shut up accusing him of things already, because even Buddha's patience had limits and was able to be provoked – and Vegeta was no Buddha.

"Our deal," Bulma stated with a hint of annoyance. "He will be free once Earth is free. No sooner and no later. In order to do that, however, we need to get rid of our mutual enemy: Frieza. With Vegeta's brawn and my brain, we should be able to do it in no time."

She ignored his scoff, though noticed the faint smirk on his lips.

Oh God, had she just stroked his obviously massive ego?

Gohan frowned down at the vendor, telling them, "We should get going, his energy is flickering like he's about to wake up."

Vegeta nodded once in silent agreement.

"Can you sense energy now, too, Vegeta?" the younger saiyan asked, his eyes widening.

"Of course," he scoffed. "It was easy to learn for somebody like me."

Before the conversation could go any further, Bulma made her way to the exit, swapping the remote and the bikes' capsule around. The sudden appearance of her bikes startled the other vendors and shoppers, perhaps even Vegeta too, but she paid no mind to them. They needed to get moving.

She was on the bike and starting the engine as Vegeta left the tent, holding a bloody and torn up arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun. Considering the fact that he'd been away from all light for a few months, his eyes had to be extremely sensitive. Bulma frowned and glanced at her sunglasses, torn about offering them to him. Then again, she'd need them for the desert so that the sand wouldn't blind her.

His weight dipped the bike, startling her for a moment and tearing her from her thoughts. She hadn't expected Vegeta to be so compliant to her orders and it was unnerving.

"There's a bar behind you that you can hold onto," Bulma warned and kicked the stand up. The thought of him holding onto her was unpleasant, mainly because of the foul smell emanating from him. "Chi-Chi, you ready?"

The younger woman was fuming, even she could sense that, but she still replied affirmatively and in response, Bulma slowly made her way down the narrow roads of the market, beeping at shoppers when necessary.

The second they reached the safe point to hit high speeds, she felt Vegeta shift in his seat, but could see in her mirror that he had his arms folded over his chest instead of holding onto the bar or even her waist, like Gohan was with his mother.

He was breathing deeply, seeming to cherish the fresh air and part of her felt bad for him, as she couldn't imagine what it was like to be held hostage for months on end, forced to rot away in your own smell and bodily fluids while covered in vicious wounds from previous battles and current torture sessions.

The guy was a monster, there was no denying or ignoring that fact. He had slaughtered millions, had been the reason for the downfall of her planet, but now he was going to help them get it back. That was all that mattered in that moment. Getting her home back.

The earlier joy of driving at such high speeds was no longer there and Bulma could feel that Chi-Chi was deliberately keeping back instead of racing her. It hardly mattered. If she wanted their home back, then she would have to put aside her hatred towards Vegeta, just as he was putting aside his. In the end, they were both going to gain a win. His freedom and their world's freedom.

_Whatever. Let her sulk._

With that thought, Bulma picked up more speed, grinning to herself when she felt Vegeta shifting in order to feel more secure. Still, however, he didn't hold onto anything.

Jerk.

Unfortunately for her, they arrived at the ship much too soon, with Chi-Chi and Gohan a few minutes behind them. It gave her the opportunity to put her bike away and enter the ship, starting up the engine so they could set off straight away.

It was a good thing that she'd installed an extra seat _just in case_ they came across Goku.

There was no need to instruct Vegeta to sit down, because he immediately took the seat beside hers, surprising her momentarily before she inwardly shrugged. Gohan was part of the reason why he was in the position he was in right now and Chi-Chi hated his guts. She was the least likely to bug him, she supposed. It annoyed Chi-Chi, though. Bulma was guessing the only reason why she didn't say anything was because of Gohan. She would rather be sitting next to her son than a murderer, or having a murderer beside him.

"You guys ready?" she asked rhetorically. Even if they weren't, they were getting off this damned rock and proved her point by setting off before they could utter a single word, glancing over at Vegeta smugly as she murmured, "Welcome to the team, Vegeta."


	6. It Has Begun

**Chapter 5**

**It Has Begun**

* * *

"No, he isn't."

Of course Chi-Chi was still complaining about their newest member, doing her utmost to make her displeasure known (although why she even bothered considering he was already on the damn ship and they were travelling again, she wasn't sure). Bulma sighed and released the controls once it was safe to do so, taking mere moments to type in a command to keep them on a steady course.

Unbuckling her safety belts, she stood up, stretching even though she'd only been sat down for a few minutes (she believed their stressful couple of hours both shopping and breaking a murderer out of his captivity earned her the right to feel tense). The others were also standing, although Chi-Chi took more of an offensive stance as far away from them as possible, clutching an unyielding hold of her son's shoulder, glaring as hatefully as she could. If he was affected in the least, Vegeta didn't show it, choosing to instead turn his back on them all to gaze out of the large window behind her, staring at the stars and planets they were passing.

"We need him, Chi-Chi," Bulma argued.

"Vegeta?"

They all glanced down at Gohan, who was ignoring his mother's harsh hiss for him to stay away from Vegeta, to stop talking to him immediately like just his gaze would taint him. If he'd wanted to, he could've broken out of her grasp but they knew that out of respect for her, he wouldn't.

Once he had the prince's attention, he continued by asking, "Who's that Frieza guy you mentioned earlier?"

Turning slightly so that he was looking over his shoulder at the boy, Vegeta regarded him for several moments and Bulma couldn't help but bite her lip worriedly. How much would he share? "Frieza is a tyrant – the ruler of a great amount of the universe and he plans to conquer the rest of it. However, despite his own strength, he knows he can't do it on that alone. There's too much to do and it would take too long."

"So… He orders…"

"He orders people like me to do his dirty work."

Tears threatened to fill Gohan's eyes, but rather than allow the emotions to consume him, he gritted his teeth. "My dad won't be like that," he declared and they could all see that he wished his words to be true with all of his heart. "His wish for peace is stronger than he is physically."

There was a low hum of amusement before Vegeta was once more facing the window, but that didn't mean they could no longer see his expression and it was something that made Bulma shiver involuntary. It was such a dark, haunting look and she wondered what it would be like to view it face-to-face, instead of through the reflection.

"He is still a saiyan warrior," Vegeta told him simply. "Our thirst for battle runs through our veins and it is impossible to ignore." They noticed his eyes moving to the side, like he was looking at Gohan directly and she wondered if he felt the full weight of his stare. "You know what that feels like."

The young boy swallowed hard and suddenly found it impossible to meet either of their eyes, making Bulma's heart clench. "He's… not like that. My dad isn't like that."

Dark eyes shut, though his smug smirk seemed forced to her. "Neither was I, in the beginning."

"That's it," Chi-Chi snarled and grabbed Gohan's shoulder. This time, the boy didn't fight her. He allowed his mother to drag him away. "That's enough horror stories. Gohan, you should know better than that!"

Bulma couldn't help but feel saddened as she watched the pair leave. All the while, Gohan was silent and she could tell that his hope was growing smaller and smaller by the minute, leaving her to sigh helplessly. She'd done all she could to prevent it, to prevent Gohan from losing his faith, but it seemed just ten minutes in Vegeta's presence wiped out all her efforts. How the hell did she compete with a force like him?

"He's just a kid," she murmured. "You shouldn't be saying things like that to him."

"Oh?" A pause. "Would you rather he found out the hard way?" Vegeta turned to face her, opening his eyes and raising a single eyebrow. "Kakarot has two choices while in Frieza's clutches: bow to him and do as he orders, or die."

His previous words drifted to the front of her mind, repeating that he hadn't been the man he was now, in the beginning.

"…Is that what happened with you?" she asked quietly without meaning to.

"Enough," he snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously and startling her. "I agreed to work with you in order to bring down Frieza. I don't remember agreeing to share any information with you."

"Information?" Bulma repeated in disbelief. How could he say it in such an offhanded way? Like it was nothing more than data found on a computer? "It's not _information_ , it's memories. It's truth. It's _facts_. Your arrival on Earth was the death of my boyfriend – _fact_. I was inconsolable for weeks after his death because it felt like a hole was punched right through my chest – _memory_."

But it seemed Vegeta wasn't even listening anymore. His back was facing her again.

Her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles cracked under the strain. "From now on, don't speak to Gohan unless it's something positive. He's only six-years-old and the last thing he needs right now is somebody like you destroying what little hope he has left."

There was no reply and it only made her angrier.

However, she still had some common sense. Deep down, no matter how furious he made her, Bulma knew it was dangerous to yell and scream at such an unpredictable man. Vegeta was able to break her in two without breaking a sweat, regardless of whether or not he had access to his ki. He was still a murderer, after all. He would choke the life out of her even if it took him forever to do so.

She took a step back and forced down her anger. "Follow me to your room."

Finally, there was a response. It was only him turning around, but it was still a reply of sorts and so Bulma also turned, heading in the direction of the rather isolated room.

It didn't feel right having Vegeta staying all the way down in the 'lockdown' room (as she and Gohan jokingly called it), though that was just the failed hostess her mother had tried to embed within her psyche rearing its unwanted head.

They gave it such a name to try and ease the tension in the air whenever it was time to stick the boy in there. Despite the attempts, however, she and Chi-Chi always felt disgusting after leaving Gohan there, even if it was for the safety of them all.

"It has a lock on the outside, not the inside," she informed him as they descended the ladder. Since he was still unable to use his ki, Vegeta had no choice but to follow her example. "We use it to try and keep Gohan from seeing the moon if we're ever stuck on a planet."

"You imprison him."

"We have no choice," Bulma replied hotly, glaring up at him and stopping in her descent. Vegeta also stopped. "It's either that or having the entire ship be torn apart in the middle of space. Do you think either of us are well-equipped to handle a saiyan? We don't know what the hell we're doing."

Noticing the faint tremor in his legs at the strain of holding himself up, she once more forced down her annoyance and began moving again.

"It's not exactly a room built for royalty," she murmured reluctantly, wanting to fill the sudden silence. What did it mean? The silence, she meant. Did it mean she'd made a good point? Did it mean Vegeta agreed that the two women had no fucking idea what to do with a saiyan? "But Gohan has never complained about it. I mean, it's got its own bathroom, whereas the rest of us have to share, but that means it's taken some of the space out of the bedroom–"

"I don't care."

Bulma bristled and she wanted nothing more than to tear a chunk out of him. Instead, she breathed out slowly, just as she used to do during her pilates class. It helped with creating calmness of the mind, which, in the long run, helped her gain more patience when it came to the more difficult stretches. It was apparently necessary now, since he was _really trying her patience._

"The bedding is obviously clean and the bathroom should be stocked. If it isn't, just let me know – actually, I'll check myself while I'm here. Oh and there aren't any windows. At all."

"Obviously."

Fuck pilates.

"You jerk," Bulma screeched and jumped down the remaining steps, trying her best to ignore the sharp pain that shot up her legs in response. "The least you could do is say thank you. I saved you from that hellhole!"

It seemed Vegeta's patience also snapped, because he was suddenly right in front of her, staring her down with a vicious glower that had her taking an involuntary step back. Waves of darkness oozed from him, taking her breath away. That and he still reeked.

"Let's get one thing straight, Little Human." She shrank back when he took a step closer, closing the distance between them and obviously trying to intimidate her. It worked. "You did not save me, I saved myself by entering a deal with you. In no way, shape or form does that mean I am indebted to you. Are we clear?"

Her back hit the wall and Bulma's eyes snapped to his, wide and fearful. "Crystal."

"Now, I'm just taking a guess here, but I take it you don't own any healing tanks."

She shook her head. She didn't even know what they were.

Vegeta snarled, his fist hitting the wall right beside her head and making her jump. "Useless. Find me a medical kit at once."

Right at the last second, Bulma stopped herself from nodding at his barked order and instead narrowed her eyes at him, her upper lip curling. Hell no. Like hell was she being treated like that. "I'm not a slave!"

"Clearly not. A slave wouldn't talk back to their master."

The nerve of that man. Gods, she ought to throw itching powder all over the bandages. Watching him squirm with discomfort, at a complete loss as to what was happening, would surely make up for her easy defeat. "I'll find you a goddamn medical kit, but only because _I'm_ going to be the one who has to clean up all of your blood. So stay in your room until I get back. Better yet, stay in the bathroom. It'll be easier to clean."

Like he could read her mind and knew she was plotting against him, Vegeta walked further into the bedroom, standing bang in the middle of the room and raising a challenging eyebrow. It had the old twitch from back in her teenage years returning, her eyebrow growing a mind of its own as she attempted to calm herself, since she was already treading on thin ice – Vegeta was a murderer. He killed her friends. Her boyfriend. The reminder alone was enough to cool her off, like Vegeta had his blood soaked hand on the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of hair, holding her under ice cold water.

Suddenly, turning her back on him made the hairs on her body stand on end and Bulma suppressed a shudder, the feeling of his agitated gaze increasing her discomfort tenfold. Was it just her, or had the oxygen levels suddenly dropped? She swallowed hard, making a mental note to double check the levels once she escaped his overbearing presence.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing," she answered too quickly.

"Then go," he snarled.

Gladly.

* * *

Returning to the lockdown room had her wondering whether having Vegeta's assistance was really worth it. Similar to when she'd left, he remained stood in the centre of the room, leaving several small pools of blood surrounding him. What aggravated her the most wasn't just the fact that it was on white tiles. No, it was in the grout and damn it, she'd never had the patience to clean it thoroughly.

Wordlessly, not giving him the reaction he probably wanted (and in turn giving him the excuse to brutally murder her), Bulma made her way straight to the bathroom, not even looking behind herself to check if he was following. He must have sensed that she didn't truly care that much (even though she totally did), because he followed just as silently and she could feel his dark gaze on her as she set the box down at the sink. It was soon confirmed that he was staring at her when she glanced up at him via their reflections in the mirror.

"What are you waiting for?" he demanded.

She totally didn't just jump. Nope. "Well, I-I was just going to–"

"Leave."

"But you can't reach your back by yourself," she tried to tell him, only to quickly move when he approached.

"I don't need your help."

Standing back as Vegeta tended to his wounds, Bulma had to hold back her revulsion, especially when he tugged on a loose piece of skin with morbid fascination, dark eyes trained on the way more blood oozed to the surface, spilling over and adding to his already soaked arms.

"At least let me clean up your back," she offered with a sigh, averting her gaze from his insistent tugging. "Then I'll leave you to do the rest."

He grunted at that, finally leaving his ruined skin alone. "You won't leave otherwise."

Was that the way to get through to him? Through threats and promises? Wording her offers in ways that only benefited him, making it seem as though she wasn't actually helping him out? Gods, the man was way too proud for his own damned good.

But she had to grit her teeth and bear it. Anything less would either get her killed or ruin their deal.

Back at the vendor's hut, she hadn't really assessed the negatives of having Vegeta join their team, believing there was no other way to find and save Goku. It was easy pushing aside the horrors he'd revelled in – just as easy reminding herself that it wasn't actually by his hand that her beloved Yamcha had died.

Standing in his presence, alone in a cramped bathroom, was a different matter entirely.

It was suffocating, like his darkness sucked the oxygen from the room, his aura alone threatening to murder her before he even got the chance to wrap his hands around her throat. Actually, it felt like his aura had morphed into a hand she couldn't see, slowly tightening its grip around her throat, leaving his physical hands clean.

She busied herself with opening the kit, only sparing a glance over her shoulder when she heard Vegeta move.

"I could always make you leave," he muttered darkly and his gaze travelled upwards, meeting hers.

Her hands froze on the gauze. "Y-You agreed–"

"That I wouldn't kill you."

She swallowed hard and turned fully so that her back wasn't to him, hands gripping at the sink behind her.

"I said nothing about harming you."

"Would you really do that?" she dared to demand, grasping at straws. "I thought the saiyan race was an honourable one?"

Breathing was impossible when Vegeta invaded her personal space, looking down his nose at her like there wasn't mere inches between his and her own. And when his hands came down on the sink beside hers, caging her in, Bulma had to force herself not to shrink back, remaining as still as possible like he was nothing more than a rabid, feral animal stalking her.

His eyes narrowed. "Your planet was too primitive to hear of other races."

Sensing his hidden question, she murmured in an unsteady voice, "The majority of your time on Earth was broadcast – we saw and heard most of it."

"Is that so?"

"Goku's brother also said some stuff about your race," she whispered, hoping her blunt honesty wouldn't get her killed. Then again, her sharp tongue was more likely to do that. She just had to watch what she said around him. "He said it was a proud, warrior race who valued their honour–"

"And you think you know enough to understand my race?" he questioned. Rather than the angered demand she'd been anticipating, he was calm. Unnervingly so. And somehow that was so much worse. "That third class weakling may have been older, but he didn't know the half of it."

It wasn't her place to ask, no matter how much the scientist in her wanted to break everything apart to understand it all.

So, instead, she willed herself to be strong and daringly met his eye, raising an eyebrow. "I'll leave as soon as your back is done. Not a moment later or sooner."

He merely nodded and turned, allowing her to see the mess that suddenly had her retching.

* * *

"You're putting this whole thing at risk," concluded Chi-Chi's angered rant. How long had she been droning on for? Not including when they first rescued Vegeta? Too damn long. It was a good thing Goku was so resilient and thick headed, as anyone else would have lost their mind by now. "Our mission, our chance to save my husband, the chance to bring back _your_ –"

Patience snapping, Bulma warned darkly, "Don't."

"Don't what? Make you see sense?" she demanded, hands going to her hips and balling into fists. It wasn't as intimidating as she believed it to be. Sure, she'd once been afraid of the younger woman, but not anymore – no, not afraid. Wary. Reasonably wary, considering Chi-Chi was labelled as the strongest woman on Earth. Her fierce fighting skills were what made Goku notice her. "I'm not risking my son's life because of him," Chi-Chi added and was suddenly and painfully obviously trying to come from a different standpoint, her tone considerably softer, dark eyes large and worried. "Maybe if it was just us, then sure. I'd humour your recklessness. But not with Gohan on board."

There were two major reasons why Gohan was accompanying them (along with many, _many_ exhausting little ones): with all that had happened and was happening on Earth, Chi-Chi believed the safest place for her son to be, was with her. They didn't know who they would be encountering, or how deadly the battles would be while trying to rescue Goku, but as long as Chi-Chi was there, he was safe. The other reason why he was with them was because they were mere humans, whereas he was half-saiyan. He was incredibly strong despite his age, already surpassing many of the Earth's greatest warriors.

Oh, and the fact that they really didn't want Frieza getting his hands on him, though didn't know that particular reason until crossing paths with Vegeta and learning about the tyrant.

Sighing, Bulma returned her gaze to her latest invention, unscrewing the back and critically assessing the mess of wires and alien technology. Although they'd been travelling for what seemed like forever now, visiting countless planets and collecting a wide range of knowledge, foreign inventions still created an exciting challenge for her. It was her way to unwind.

"I'm done talking about this."

"I'm not."

Since leaving Earth, Bulma liked to believe she'd matured massively. Had they still been who they were back on Earth, she would have lost her temper. She would have mouthed back. _Screamed_ with her frustration. Instead, she took a deep breath and tuned the fuming mother out, focusing entirely on the alien invention before her. Sometimes, silence was harsher than an actual argument.

She'd been working on it since way before the attack on Earth, dissecting what she could understand. Previously, she had managed to get it working again, but hadn't been able to progress any further due to the issue of not having the correct parts. Aliens were far more advanced than they were – the technology Earth boasted about was laughable in comparison. Adding it to anything from another planet and it'd be downgrading the thing.

The sound of the doors swooshing open had Bulma glancing over her shoulder, blinking a couple of times to rid herself of the stars she was seeing from her examination light. The tense momentary standoff in the doorway had her muttering under her breath, refraining from shaking her head with annoyance. While leaving, Chi-Chi had come face-to-face with Vegeta, refusing to hide her disgust towards the man as she glared hatefully at him.

Huffing with dry amusement, Vegeta walked away, approaching her. "Where are your training quarters, Woman?"

"Training quarters?" she repeated and frowned. "We don't have any."

Just the possibility seemed to anger him, for all previous amusement dropped from Vegeta's expression. "You mean to tell me you've had that brat imprisoned on this ship for however many months without allowing him to train?"

That…

That totally wasn't where she'd presumed the conversation would go.

"Preposterous. It's a surprise he hasn't torn this ship apart out of mere boredom." Growling under his breath, he then added darkly, "You mean to tell me that I will be forced to live in such a way, also?"

Oh. There was the self-absorption.

"We don't exactly have much space to work with here," she tried to argue, but was promptly cut off.

"Then clear out this pitiful excuse of a lab and change it at once."

Who the hell did he think he was ordering her around?

_No_ , she warned herself, taking a deep breath. Losing her cool against someone like him would only get her killed. She couldn't exactly save her planet (or what was left of it) if she was dead, could she?

"Look. We're doing the best that we can here." Gesturing around them at the countless inventions that had been started and put aside, she added, "We need a lab so that I can work on parts for the ship."

"Parts for the ship?" he repeated flatly. For some reason, it scared her so much more than his yelling. That fear only continued to grow when he shut his eyes, like he was dealing with an incompetent idiot, because Bulma knew – oh, she just _knew_ – that she'd often spoken to her own employees in such a way when they'd fucked up on something, before promptly unleashing hell on them. "We're travelling through space on an unfinished ship."

"Technically, it was once finished," she said nervously, smiling.

When he reopened his eyes to glare at her, Bulma swallowed. "We're travelling on a broken ship."

"No, not broken. Just… old."

"How is that any better?" he demanded.

Well, she supposed it wasn't, considering they were both equally likely to die during their journey.

But she had to be optimistic, for the sake of the others.

"There's nothing I can do about a training room," she told him as apologetically as possible. Whether he believed it or not was his own problem. Turning in her stool, she stood and removed her magnifying monocle, making her way around the desk. "This ship is way too small to create one."

"Then we obviously need a replacement."

Yes, because they were _so_ easy to come by, weren't they? Gods, that man was infuriating as hell, determined on driving her insane.

At least he'd showered, she told herself as she finally took note of his appearance. At some point, they would have to stop somewhere to obtain more clothing for him, for he couldn't live in his tattered uniform for much longer. It was barely clinging together and still reeked, although it seemed he'd done what he could to clean it. Maybe that was partly why that stick was so far up his ass? The way he was living and had been for the past however many months was hardly dignified and he was supposed to be royalty. What sort of royal was forced to live in a uniform that continued to boast the stains of the torture he'd gone through?

"What do you propose?" she questioned with a raising brow. "We hijack the first ship that passes us?"

Her sarcasm wasn't lost on him, but it wasn't returned with anger. It made him smirk. "Hardly. We will go to one of Frieza's many bases."

…What?


	7. Into The Dark Below

**Chapter 6**

**Into The Dark Below**

* * *

Laying in her bed, Bulma kept her eyes locked on the smooth tile of her ceiling, wondering how the hell she was going to convince the already infuriated Chi-Chi into such a ridiculously dangerous plan.

Since their disagreement in the lab, they'd all been avoiding one another (well, Gohan didn't really have much of a say in the matter), making life on the ship unbearable. Even though it'd only been a few hours and she was probably speaking prematurely, Bulma couldn't help but wonder if it would remain that way. With everyone fending for themselves, remaining locked away in their rooms. God, she hoped not. It was so dull. Yes, it meant having to interact with a psycho, but…

What the hell was she thinking? Becoming a recluse was so much better than spending time with Vegeta. Gods, how lonely was she becoming, trapped in space with only the same two people to speak with, for her to so much as consider sitting in his company?

Shuddering, Bulma turned onto her side, gaze drawn to the photograph on her nightstand. Happy faces smiled at her warmly, their eyes full of laughter. Her mother had been the one to take the picture, for it had been a rare event having the guys back together again – all of them – and they'd wanted to remember the occasion. Even Master Roshi was in the picture, making the victory sign next to a grinning Krillin.

Her chest constricted to the point where Bulma was certain there was no oxygen left in the room, leaving her to gasp desperately, only to bury her face into the pillow when a pitiful half-sob left her a second later.

Dead.

Everyone was dead.

Her parents. Tights. Yamcha–

Fingers curling in her sheets, she did her best to keep quiet, knowing the others would hear otherwise. Bulma couldn't think of anything worse – having people witness her moments of weakness, when she couldn't gather the composure that made her a fierce businesswoman.

She was strong. She was. _Truly._

But…

But, for now, she needed to grieve. And that was okay too.

* * *

Refreshed from her shower, Bulma tightened her robe around herself securely before leaving the bathroom, sighing at the cold air that hit her.

The halls were quiet, all doors shut, and she could tell from that observation alone that Chi-Chi and Gohan were stilled holed away in their room. Would she have to go to them to discuss Vegeta's reckless plan?

Procuring a new ship would be handy, Bulma allowed. However, she would no doubt need to work tirelessly on it to ensure there were no trackers. Stealing a random ship without taking any precautions was asking for trouble, and she was fairly certain that a powerful tyrant like Frieza would possess a much more powerful and faster ship than his lackeys. She knew she sure as hell would.

Would Frieza's ships be bigger than their own? Hopefully, Vegeta wasn't planning on taking those pods he and his accomplice had used to travel to Earth, for just the thought of such a cramped space made her feel claustrophobic. It was bad enough being trapped on their current ship – she didn't want to downsize in the slightest.

Turning on her heel, she returned to her room, quickly dressing into a casual outfit before taking a huge risk in going to see _him_.

Her mind played tricks on her the entire trip to the lock down room, hissing that Vegeta would be pissed with her for disturbing him. Tuning out the paranoia was damn near impossible, but she'd always been good at achieving the impossible, so by the time she was outside his door, Bulma had managed to rein in her fear, knocking tersely on the door.

"Is this room service?" he questioned as soon as he opened the door, eyeing her.

She resisted the urge to shudder. "Actually, I wanted to discuss your plan – the one about going to one of Frieza's bases."

Nodding once, he pushed his door open further, surprising Bulma when she found that his floor was nothing like when she was last there. All blood was cleaned up (although, as she'd feared, stains remained) and the furniture was pushed to the far ends of the room, leaving a space large enough for him to do basic workouts.

It surprised her how clean it was, though. That was the one thought that continued to repeat itself in her mind, making her gaze return to the floor in astonishment. Who'd have thought that a monster as ruthless as Vegeta would clean up after himself? Especially after all his talk about her being a slave?

"There is a base he rarely – if ever – frequents. Frieza sends trusted subordinates to deal with it on his behalf, though no-one powerful enough to cause issues for us."

Handy. Narrowing her eyes sceptically, she asked, "And you're sure that a base he doesn't really care about will have a better ship than this?"

Vegeta snorted at that, his arms folding over his chest. "How many ships have you seen, Little Human?"

Was that supposed to be her new name? He'd called her it more than anything else, she believed. And what the hell was the little comment about? They were almost the same damn size.

"Two," replied Bulma defensively, looking away.

"Let me guess: one of them happened to be Nappa's pod?"

Nappa? He must have been the other saiyan – the big one who had terrorised the Earth's army. "Yeah."

"Pitiful," he scoffed. Leaning back against the dresser, he regarded her coolly, forcing Bulma to stomp back the urge to shift her footing. She refused to look nervous in front of him, even though she was nothing but. "A ship like this wouldn't even be given to the weakest of Frieza's army. He prides himself on many things – his appearance being one of them."

Wow. A superficial tyrant?

It sounded uncomfortably familiar.

Wait. No. She was so not a tyrant. A total hard ass when it came to her employees at Capsule Corporation, sure. But not a tyrant. She only pushed them and demanded excellence because anything less and the company her father had almost killed himself perfecting would be in jeopardy.

Bulma ran a hand through her wet hair, attempting to distract herself from Vegeta's unwavering stare. "I want a bigger ship," she told him without hesitation, meeting his gaze once more.

"How big?"

There were options? Damn. "I want spare rooms and somewhere I can work without being disturbed."

"Any lab of Frieza's will be filled with technology you have no hopes in understanding."

That was undeniably true, however, everyone had to start from somewhere, right? "Please," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Are you telling me you were born with your current strength and knowledge? I didn't know half of the things I know now back when I was a teenager. I can learn alien technology."

"What else?"

Oh? So he was ignoring her boasting? "Like you were saying yesterday: we need somewhere you can train – Gohan, too. If we're going to be fighting Frieza-"

It honest to God scared the _shit_ out of her when he burst into laughter and there was no masking her jump or gasp of surprise. "We?"

The condescension in his tone instantly caught her attention and Bulma felt herself bristling, despite her internal warnings of staying calm. Balling her hands into fists, she gritted her teeth, failing in her soothing deep breathing techniques.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from the battle."

He said the words seriously, slapping her straight out of her quickly escalating anger, leaving Bulma to stare at him with carefully hidden surprise. How was she supposed to take his warning? As a threat or concern?

The second the thought flashed through her mind, Bulma erupted into a fit of giggles, unable to hide them even as she slapped her hands over her mouth.

Vegeta? Concerned about her well-being?

Her giggles increased to full blown laughter and she was no longer able to see his agitated glare, for her vision was blurred with tears.

"What the hell are you laughing at, demon woman?"

Demon woman? Still, her laughter kept her from growing annoyed with him and she managed to tell him through gasps for breath between her giggles, "I had the stupid thought that you were concerned about me."

Apparently, her thought really was stupid, because Vegeta smirked. "You're right. That is stupid."

Right? God, what the hell was wrong with her? "Obviously, I'm having some kind of breakdown."

It was definitely the stress of the past day, wasn't it? No, it had to be the stress from the past year catching up on her. Preparing for the saiyan invasion, losing her lover and friends, losing her entire planet, travelling for six months on an unreliable ship that could break down at any moment, to finally enlisting the aid of the man who'd unknowingly had a hand in the horrors she'd gone through. It had all taken its toll on her once brilliant mind and in response to the agony, she was having a breakdown. That had to be it.

"Well, now that _that's_ over," she said, wiping at her eyes when she eventually managed to calm herself down. "What do you suggest we do about the ship?"

"You're willing to risk infiltrating Frieza's base?"

Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I thought you said there won't be anyone there who'd be a problem for us?"

"While I will stand out, most – if not all – of the warriors stationed there will know their place and retreat," he said with the same amount of haughtiness she'd used earlier. Tipping his chin up the tiniest amount, he looked down his nose at her, muttering, "You, on the other hand, are pathetically weak and they will leap on you the first chance they get."

Was that a threat? It didn't matter if it was because it still scared her, although she refused to show it as she folded her arms beneath her breasts, raising a daring eyebrow. "Well, then. I just won't leave your side."

"You think you can keep up with me?"

Did he really think she was an idiot? Gods, if she had been an idiot, there was no chance she would have been able to keep up with the warriors of her planet. After all, what else did she have to offer? The majority of them were immune to her charms and didn't seem to appreciate her appearance – her intelligence was the _only_ thing that kept her up there with them. Half of the time, it was the only way she could help them and their planet.

"I won't have to," she said cryptically, smirking.

"Explain yourself."

"It would be quicker showing you."

Beckoning him to follow her, Bulma turned on her heel and left his room, not bothering to check over her shoulder to see if he was following as she strutted to the lab. Keeping her arms folded over her chest, Bulma raised her chin, not caring that she was being arrogant as hell because damn it, she was a genius. She was allowed to feel proud and confident of her skills and talent.

It wasn't until she reached the lab that she glanced over her shoulder, entering without a word once the doors swept open.

"So it's something to do with the junk you have cluttering this pitiful lab."

Junk?

_Junk?_

Stomping down her anger, she walked over to her desk, yanking a drawer open with more strength than what was necessary. Then, she plucked a device from within, slipping it onto her wrist.

When she'd first grabbed it, Bulma hadn't been sure what use it would be – or whether she'd even use it. But it seemed stupid leaving it behind, especially when it held sentimental value.

"A watch," he stated flatly with a roll of his eyes. "You think a damn watch is going to-"

His sentence was cut off abruptly as she pressed a button and shrank until she was barely three inches tall, his eyes widening a fraction and following her every move (which she was secretly grateful for, as she really didn't want to be stepped on).

Only when her point was proven did Bulma press another button, returning to her original height.

Hands on her hips, she smirked.

"Keep me in your pocket," she said and shrugged. "I won't have to keep up with you."

"Do I look like I have pockets?" came his angered demand.

Shit.

His uniform was barely even clinging together, still covered in dirt and blood and sweat. Although it was obvious he'd tried to clean it, he hadn't been able to get any of the stains out – hadn't even made them fade. The thought of having to hide anywhere in his clothing made her shudder in disgust.

"We made Gohan's outfit out of my clothes-"

"I am _not_ wearing a woman's clothing!"

"Would you rather walk around like _that?_ " she snapped before she could bite her tongue.

Sucking in a sharp breath once she realised what she'd done, Bulma could only watch the ticking time-bomb with eyes a fraction wider than usual, heart pounding away in her chest to the extent she could feel it all around her body. He was silent, features stony as he stared at her with an unblinking, cold gaze.

"I would rather walk around in the evidence of my captivity for all to see and know that I was captured by a weakling, than have to wear a whore's clothing."

Whore…

Even though she knew she deserved the comment for wounding his pride, it was difficult squashing down her rage at the name.

"Typical male response," she yelled, unable to stop herself. "Not intelligent enough to think of anything else to say, so you resort to accusing women of being whores."

"What was that?"

"You heard me!"

Like hell she was going to back down. Like hell she would ever lay back and take abuse from _anyone._ Psychopath or not, whether he was the cause of terrible events that lead to her planet's demise or not, she would not let him treat her like shit. She was _not_ a whore.

She was Bulma fucking Brief.

And it was about damn time the universe learned that.


	8. As the Seed Begins to Rise

**Chapter 7**

**As the Seed Begins to Rise**

* * *

"Okay, demon woman," started Vegeta, his suspicious, hateful eyes narrowed on her arrogant form. "Let's say you do manage to hide on my person somehow. How exactly will that benefit the mission?"

Surely he wasn't that dense? Or was it that he thought so lowly of his former master that Vegeta honestly didn't have any idea how paranoid most tyrants tended to be?

Hands once more falling to her hips, she returned his glare. "Because unless you know how to enter a computer system and locate hidden files and delete them – including trackers, so that we can remain hidden from Frieza – then you're going to need me."

Bulma knew from his momentary pause that she'd won their little spat and it took a great effort hiding her victorious grin.

"You admitted earlier that you don't understand alien technology," he finally responded. "We will hardly have the time to stand around while you educate yourself."

Turning on her heel, she approached her work table, fingertips grazing one of her inventions. "I've been working on this for months now," she told Vegeta calmly while placing it over her ear and activating it. "I went from the basics, taking apart Raditz's scouter, decoding it and translating everything so that I could understand it."

"Where the hell are you going with this?"

Bulma looked over her shoulder before turning fully, hands on hips and chest pushed out as she showed off her latest invention proudly.

He was unimpressed to say the least.

Rolling her eyes, she gestured towards the green scouter and grinned.

Still, there was no reply.

"I made this myself, asshole," she snapped, uncaring of the results.

"So you made something there's already thousands of," Vegeta snarled in response and folded his arms across his chest. "That doesn't mean you will be able to hack into Frieza's systems."

For such a short man he sure was a whole lot of angry, Bulma inwardly grumbled. Instead of showing her annoyance any further and getting herself beaten up (since Vegeta had already agreed he wouldn't kill her), she removed the scouter and sighed, putting it back down on the workstation.

"The scouters were created by Frieza's men, right?" He nodded. "And they were more than likely the ones who created the systems for Frieza's ships." Again, another nod and she smiled. "Then it'll be a cinch. Once I hack into the system – and by the way, I've been able to hack into stuff since I was nine years old – I'll hook my scouter up to the ship we choose, download the system _I_ modified onto it so that I can understand it, then as soon as I disable the tracker, we can escape."

Not for the first time, his eyes narrowed and she bit back the automatic warning of giving himself wrinkles from scowling so much. "That sounds too simple."

She snorted. "That's because I dumbed it down, stupid saiyan. Would you like for me to go into technical jargon?"

It worried her when he smirked, but he settled said worry when he muttered, "You're either brave or stupid, little human. Usually, a creature as inferior and weak as you would run rather than fight back."

It didn't matter whether he meant it as an insult, because she sure as hell was taking it as a compliment. From what she'd seen and heard of the ruthless prince, Bulma knew that he was cold-hearted and would rather tear a person down than admit they had bested him. She'd expected him to lash out at her for talking down to him as much as she had in the past half an hour alone, but instead, he'd yet again proven her wrong.

"Is that because you hold the controls for this contraption?" he questioned, gesturing to the collar and cuffs. "Do you get off on being an insolent wench because you know I can't kill you?"

Oh.

Oh no.

She was in dangerous territory, wasn't she?

Swallowing, Bulma responded, "Hardly. You could just kill me and take the controls."

He scoffed at that. "Like you're actually carrying it on your person."

"And risk facing you unarmed during a bad mood?" she shot back. "When we've both already established that I can't always control my mouth?"

The hairs on the back of her neck were beginning to stand on end, her body's natural survival instincts warning her that she was most definitely entering dangerous territory. The smartest thing to do in that moment was retreat while she still could, especially now that she had alerted him to the presence of the controller that would grant his freedom being in the room – being on _her_. But how was she supposed to do that when he was standing between her and the door?

"Is that so?" he muttered, a nasty smirk pulling on his lips.

It was pure instincts that had her stepping back when he moved towards her and Bulma cursed when her back bumped into the workstation. She was trapped and she released a shaky breath as Vegeta closed the distance between them, smirking down on her hatefully, caging her in as his hands came to the station on each side of her body. All she was capable of doing was staring into his eyes, the darkness of them seeming endless, threatening to swallow her whole – like she would never see the light again, should she lose herself in them.

Prior to what she'd previously believed: Vegeta was actually a few inches taller than her and while he was still short, it meant she did in fact have to look up to him, much to her irritation.

_She looked up to no-one!_

Yet…

A sudden movement on his part (that her mind _screamed_ was absolutely offensive) had her squeezing her eyes shut and her whole body tensing, chanting a prayer to the Gods that had abandoned them so far, hoping they would finally take pity on her.

But nothing happened.

Warily, she cracked an eye open, only to frown at the confusion on his face, his hand remaining outstretched towards her throat.

She swallowed hard, still unable to relax her muscles. One wrong move and she would be dead. It was plain and simple.

"Why won't you use it?"

Her frown deepened. "W-What're you talking about?"

The sound of his fist slamming down onto the workstation right next to her and unsettling her inventions had Bulma flinching and squealing in fright. "Don't play dumb," he snarled at her distrustfully, leaning towards her until their noses were almost touching. "The controls. Why aren't you using them against me if I'm threatening you?"

What was the point? Either he would snatch it away from her before she had the chance to use it or kill her the second it was turned down again. As soon as it was used, it was game over for her and she wouldn't ever be able to get him back on earth's side – if he didn't kill her, that was.

"W-Why would I want to hurt you?" questioned Bulma, unable to think of a single excuse.

"To keep me in line," came his muttered response. Narrowing his eyes further, he stunned her by lowering his head slightly, sniffing her neck. "I can smell the fear on you." Her eyes were wide by the time he met her gaze once more and vaguely, Bulma was so very glad that she had showered earlier. She'd had no idea a saiyan's sense of smell was so freakishly strong. "You could make it so that I can never harm you."

Hardly. If she relied on electrocuting him to keep him in line like he was a dog she was trying to train, then he would attack her the first chance he got. Or abandoned her entirely when she needed him most, leaving her to a fate worse than death. Like he'd said earlier: even Frieza would take an interest in her appearance. Who's to say he wouldn't leave her to face something like that? To be violated and murdered in such a horrific way?

"Do it," he goaded, smirking once more. "Shock me."

Why the hell was he pushing her like that? "Are you a masochist or something?" she demanded, only to shrink back when she expected something harsh in response for her angered words. When there was nothing, she squinted in his direction, frowning when she saw him watching her. "What is it?"

There was a great distrust in his eyes as he regarded her, but how he could see any of her features clearly, Bulma was unsure. She sure as hell couldn't see a thing because of how close they were.

"You purposely piss me off but refuse to use the one thing that could keep you from harm."

It wasn't a question, but she answered him anyway, saying, "I guess I just… don't want to hurt you."

The suspicion increased and she noticed the fists by her sides tightening, making her nervously meet his eye once more. "You said so yourself: I had a hand in your planet's destruction."

Yes, but…

But what? Had it been Chi-Chi in her position, the woman wouldn't have thought twice about using the device on him, leaving it at its highest setting until it eventually killed him in the worst way possible. That or it would leave him in such an undignified mess that he wanted to kill himself – if Vegeta was the kind to succumb to suicide, but purely based on how proud he was, she sincerely doubted it. No, Vegeta seemed more like the kind who would overcome it simply to spite his captor, to then enact his revenge.

Wait.

_Pride._

Tipping her chin back with false haughtiness, she said bravely, "I refuse to be the one to break our deal. How pathetic would I look if I couldn't even uphold my side of the deal, especially since you have the toughest part?"

Would it work? Would stroking his seemingly humongous ego really work in her favour? Would it keep him from breaking their deal and killing her for the controller?

"Listen," she said with a sigh, all pretences dropping. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired of walking on eggshells around here-"

"Eggshells?"

"Earth saying," Bulma told him and waved her hand dismissively. "What I'm trying to say is that it's getting old fast that I can't be myself around here because I'm too scared that you're going to murder me if I say the wrong thing and piss you off. And I'm tired of Chi-Chi and Gohan hiding away. And I don't want you to think that I'm going to use this thing against you the first chance that I get – chances are, unless you really _do_ turn against us, I won't even use the damn thing." Shrugging, she leaned back against the workstation, meeting his gaze calmly. "I have too much class to lower myself to such cowardly standards – though that doesn't mean I won't do what I have to to defend myself. It's a pretty scary place out there, especially when everyone's got some kind of super strength that I have no hopes in contending with."

Stunning her completely, something that looked akin to respect flashed through his eyes and Vegeta pushed away from the desk, though didn't move any further than that. He continued to watch her closely, head tilting ever so slightly like he was contemplating something – it was similar to the way her father would examine a new invention of hers, only minus the pride.

"Cutting out your useless rambling, you're basically saying that you want to be able to insult me without suffering the consequences."

She copied him when he smirked. "I'd say more freedom of speech."

He turned his back on her and started walking away, saying with a huff of amusement, "Very well."

The next few hours were spent preparing herself for informing Chi-Chi of their plans, for she knew the woman would more than likely explode with disbelieving rage. However, Bulma had an ace up her sleeve that would – without a shadow of a doubt – work in bringing her onto their side and taking part in their ridiculously dangerous plan to obtain a better ship.

Gohan.

Gohan was unknowingly her ace. If all else failed, then she would use the boy to get Chi-Chi on board, either through exaggerating just how old the ship was and how likely it was to break down in the middle of space (leaving them stranded until they all eventually starved to death or suffocated once the oxygen ran out), or she would tell him that they could potentially find a lead on his father. Despicable to get his hopes up, yes, but they couldn't stay on their ship any longer. It was getting riskier by the day.

Catching herself just as she started wringing her hands together, Bulma scolded herself, letting them drop to her sides. Like hell she would work herself up over a conversation with Chi-Chi – because that was what it was, she reminded herself firmly. A conversation. They _needed_ a new ship, meaning it wasn't up for negotiation. If Chi-Chi wanted to risk her life staying on their old, beat up piece of–

No. She wouldn't leave her behind, no matter what.

Sighing, she knocked on the door to Chi-Chi and Gohan's bedroom, banishing her nerves as she waited patiently for the door to open and once it had, she entered without waiting for permission, coming to stand in the centre of the immaculate room. Like her own: it consisted of a double bed, a wardrobe and a desk that was currently occupied by a studying Gohan, although he peered up at her curiously.

"Back to work, Gohan," reprimanded his mother. Coming to stand closer to her, she raised an eyebrow, asking, "Well? What do you want?"

Hardly a warm welcome, but Bulma knew she kind of deserved it. "We need a new ship," she told her, getting straight to the point. There was no point in beating around the bush.

"Why? Because his highness doesn't have a bedroom fit for royalty?"

Again, she knew Chi-Chi had every right to be angry with her. It didn't mean it wasn't annoying, though. She merely gritted her teeth and put up with it. "No, because this one is old and it's getting to a stage where I can't keep working on it. It's costing too much."

The anger faded and was replaced by concern. Grabbing Bulma's arm, she tugged her out into the hall, warning her son to have the rest of the questions done for when she returned. It was only once they were out in the hall that she resumed their conversation, frowning worriedly.

"Won't it be more expensive buying another ship?" she questioned. "Where would we even get one? Will this one last until we find a replacement?"

Bulma smiled sheepishly. "Well, that's kind of the thing. We won't be buying one."

"What?"

"We're going to steal one," she told her, growing serious and preparing herself for war. "From one of Frieza's bases."

Silence.

And then…

"Okay."

Okay? Just like that? Why the hell was she agreeing so easily? Surely Chi-Chi was angry with her for introducing her son to stealing and most likely fighting, too (well, not introducing him to the latter, but getting him involved in fighting, nonetheless)?

"That's it?" asked Bulma warily and she frowned. "You're okay with it?"

"No," Chi-Chi told her, also frowning. "I'm not okay with teaching my son to steal, but… I'd rather that than risk his life travelling on a ship that's probably older than Master Roshi."

As hot-headed as the younger woman could be, Bulma was so very thankful to find she was also rational at times.

"I want us all to sit down tonight at dinner and discuss a strategy _together_ ," she ordered, leaving no room for arguments. Narrowing her eyes fractionally when the brunette looked ready to disagree, Bulma cut her off, saying, "We'll all be involved in this plan, Chi-Chi. How likely will it be to succeed if we can't even sit in the same room as each other?"

"I just…" Irritably, she shook her head, double checking the bedroom door was shut firmly before continuing, muttering with a frown, "I don't understand how you've so easily agreed to this madness, Bulma. You're the smartest person I know – not _one of_ , but _the_."

It was a backhanded compliment, in her eyes. "Then don't question my intelligence now. Vegeta is our lesser of two evils if we want Goku and our planet back."

Chi-Chi rubbed at her forehead, groaning. "I dread to think of Goku's reaction when we find him and he sees _Vegeta_ is on our side."

Yeah, he would probably be stupidly ecstatic and raring to–

Blue eyes threatened to widen, the blood chilling in her veins.

Vegeta had already stated he didn't hold any grudges against Gohan, but the same wasn't said about Goku. Also, from what she'd deducted from their short time together, she knew he was all about his pride and revenge – going off the simple fact that he'd been livid with leaving the vendor alive after all he'd gone through. Who was to say…?

Gods, she was so fucking stupid, wasn't she?

Plastering a smile on her features to keep Chi-Chi in the dark, Bulma patted her shoulders, saying, "It'll be fine. Goku would no doubt find the humour in the situation, right?"

The half-lie was bought, the younger woman melting ever so slightly. "He always does."

"Maybe you should go check on Gohan now – make sure he's still studying hard," she suggested, grinning at Chi-Chi's nod. "We'll get started on dinner shortly."

Without waiting for a more official ending to the conversation, Bulma spun on her heel, allowing the fake smile to drop as she faced the reality of her situation.

Chi-Chi had been right all along. Vegeta agreeing to help them _was_ too easy and she was so fucking angry with herself for failing to see his ulterior motive, especially considering it was so obvious. Any idiot could see it, yet she'd overlooked it entirely, too excited at the prospect of taking a step forward in their journey to retrieving Goku and saving Earth.

Rather than face Vegeta head on and accuse him of her suspicions, Bulma slipped into her lab and made sure to lock the door behind herself, pulling the controller from the confines of her bra (putting it in her pocket had been too obvious in her mind) and setting it down on her workstation.

It was a simple remote with controls even a child could understand, so her guess was that a beginner had created the collar and cuffs – maybe even in a hurry, if luck was on her side. If that was the case, she'd have her plan executed in a matter of an hour or two, though one wrong movement and Vegeta would know she was fiddling with it.

Retrieving her size-changing watch, she placed it beside the controls, fingers tapping a thoughtful rhythm on the workstation as she contemplated the pros and cons of combining the two.

On the one hand, Vegeta would never suspect a thing and if he did happen to turn on them, there would be little to no suspicion regarding her other inventions – the older ones, anyway. If she were to introduce a new invention, however, he would no doubt be wary of it. The hardened warrior in him would undeniably expect something like that of his enemy.

But damn it, she was no strategist. She was a scientist and the two were completely different beings. Vegeta, on the other hand, was a seasoned warrior and had been the leader of his saiyan squad – the big oaf who'd easily been quadruple his size had obeyed his every order and Raditz, Goku's weirdo brother, hadn't possessed a fraction of the power of those guys.

It was all strictly precautionary. If Vegeta didn't betray them, then there was nothing to worry about. If he did, then she would fry his smelly ass.

What was the point in saving Goku, after all, if Vegeta turned on him the second Frieza was dealt with? He'd barely escaped their last battle with his life and had been banged up in hospital for so long.

No, the potential grudge was too big to ignore. Just as Vegeta had a hand in her planet's destruction, Goku had had a hand in the saiyan prince's captivity and humiliation. That would never be swept under the rug, would it? Not for someone as proud as himself.

The parts of Vegeta she'd witnessed during the battle's broadcast was little to go on, but enough for Bulma to get a brief reading on the guy, especially when coupled with their interactions since making their deal.

Vegeta was proud and stubborn. Back on earth, she'd believed him to be heartless and emotionless, given the destruction he'd left in his wake without a care and while the former was still true (he'd murdered one of the last saiyans in existence), he was in no way emotionless. He couldn't be. No, _something_ had to keep pushing him forward. _Something_ kept him going during his imprisonment. Something bigger than his vendetta with Goku.

_What was it?_

Grabbing her stool, Bulma settled herself down and focused on her task at hand, immediately placing her magnifying monocle on.

He said he wasn't what he was now, in the beginning. That was what he'd said to Gohan regarding their conversation about Frieza and Goku's supposed inevitable turn to the dark side. Did that mean Vegeta had once been like Goku?

No, the thought was laughable. It was difficult picturing someone like Goku ever falling onto the same path as Vegeta. He cared too much about life and freedom. He doted on his friends and family and even gave his enemies the benefit of the doubt. Yes, he got pumped up for battle, but he despised killing and that was proven when he let Piccolo go, even after the horrors he'd caused.

Twisting a screw free with a screwdriver, Bulma bit her lip, placing it down in the small, glass dish she used to keep from losing small pieces. There was nothing worse than believing she'd finished a project, only to go to close it all up again and realise she was missing a screw.

While she was still experiencing great annoyance towards herself at so easily agreeing to the deal and forgetting about Goku's hand in Vegeta's humiliating defeat, Bulma didn't agonise over it, for what was the point? Fretting wouldn't help the situation – her intelligence would. And with the modifications to the controls, she would gain the upper hand easily, should Vegeta turn on them.

As she'd predicted: it took just over an hour to switch the chip from the remote into her watch, adding a new sequence to ensure it remained undetected. So, even if Vegeta got his hands on the remote nothing would happen and if _she_ needed to resort to using the shock collar, then all she had to do was press the locking button on the side of her watch five times, which would change her size-altering watch to his worst nightmare.

Slipping the monocle from over her eye, Bulma assessed her watch, ensuring it looked the exact same as it had when Vegeta last saw it. She couldn't risk him noticing any differences and calling her up on it. Happy that there were none, she returned it to her wrist and the controller to her bra, under the guise that she would continue to hide it on her person.

She paused in leaving her lab, surveying the inventions lining the walls and counters.

Next step, she inwardly told herself: find a way to make the watch indestructible.

Or, more realistically, find a backup plan.

But that would have to wait, Bulma told herself as she heard Chi-Chi calling for her, waiting to start dinner.

They had a plan to formulate.


	9. As We Wait in the Night

**Chapter 8**

**As We Wait in the Night**

* * *

She did not fidget. She didn't shift in her seat. Did not allow her gaze to stray.

Ignoring the indignant stare boring holes into her head, Bulma dared to oppose the irate prince of all saiyans by sitting opposite him at the head of the table. The power struggle was obvious to the other two occupying the room, but she paid them no mind, her gaze remaining locked with Vegeta's because showing weakness was a major no-no.

She didn't give him the chance to start the discussion.

 _She_ took the lead, much to his palpable irritation.

"Before we dig in, I want to start by saying that, Vegeta, you are officially welcomed to the team," Bulma said, side-eyeing Chi-Chi until the younger woman gave a single, reluctant nod.

"I'm ecstatic to have the approval."

She pretended he hadn't uttered a single word, even though on the inside, his sarcasm had her smirking. "I would also like to add that during dinner, we're going to be discussing a plan to obtain a new ship – well, new to us."

Gohan frowned at that, asking, "Do you mean to say we're stealing?"

What was worse? Shielding a child while they committed an act that, on Earth, was always taught to be immoral, _or_ informing him of every seedy detail of their plan and hoping it didn't weigh too heavily on his conscience? When it was the same childish, goody-two-shoes conscience as his father's?

But what would come of lying to the kid? He was too smart not to put two and two together and should they lie, he would grow to resent them for it. Either for not trusting him with the truth, or for not giving him a say in what was happening and utilising his strengths like he was nothing more than a tool to use at their disposal.

Decision made, Bulma nodded once. "We're stealing one."

The conflict wasn't so internal when it played out on his features for them all to see so clearly, and Bulma noticed Chi-Chi fighting back her worried frown, the lines smoothing out when Gohan looked to her questioningly. No doubt he wanted to know what his mother – the woman who'd always fought to create a clear divide between right and wrong, essentially becoming his moral compass – thought of the situation.

"The ship we're on right now is dangerous, Gohan," Chi-Chi explained carefully and Bulma commended her for keeping the indecision out of her tone and expression. To show indecisiveness in front of him would only prove disastrous in gaining his approval. "And who knows? One of Frieza's ships might even give us a lead on your father."

It was highly unlikely, but still possessed a fraction of a chance of happening, so Bulma didn't comment. She was surprised when Vegeta remained silent, also, his narrowed gaze hard and piercing as he assessed their interactions critically.

Asking herself whether he was suspicious of them was pointless, because Bulma knew he was, just as she was of him. Despite their truce (or whatever the hell it was), she knew not to trust a man who found taking another's life (even the life of his own endangered kind) easy. Given half the chance, he would kill her in her sleep and take charge of the ship.

The dining area was small, compiled of nothing more than a metal table that was welded into the floor. With just the three of them it'd been bearable sitting in the cramped room with barely a couple of steps of space on each side of the table, but with Vegeta's domineering presence, Bulma found herself uncomfortable and having to force herself to meet his eye. There weren't even any decorations to distract themselves with.

"When?" was all he asked.

"We leave for the station you mentioned earlier immediately," Bulma responded, back straight and chin tilted upwards. "When we're close enough, you guys can sense for any strong energies to make sure we're not walking into an ambush."

She knew Gohan sided with them when he nodded once, seriously. The sight of his expression sent a wave of nostalgia through her, leaving Bulma to linger in the moment, allowing the memories to assault her mind until they threatened to leave her breathless, before promptly shutting them away again.

But Gods, what she wouldn't give to return to her teenage years, back when life was as simple as needing to find a boyfriend to cherish her. Back to when she and Goku had travelled endlessly in hopes of finding the dragon balls to fulfil her wish, his odd personality and inhuman body repeatedly terrifying and intriguing her, because no child was supposed to be so ridiculously strong.

 _Goku,_ she thought without meaning to, heart yearning for some form of good news or at least a _hint_ that he was alive. _Please, be okay._

"What if Frieza is there?" asked Chi-Chi.

Bulma was tempted to look at Vegeta for the answers, but knew that by doing so, she would be admitting _he_ was the leader. "We hightail it out of there and pray he doesn't notice us."

"But what if my dad is–"

"We don't stand a chance against Frieza in our current conditions," Vegeta interjected without hesitation, removing any potential for arguments. "Kakarot will most likely die if we attempt a rescue mission in this state."

"What makes you so sure?" she demanded, but despite trying to sound so strong, Bulma could see the worry in her dark brown eyes. "My Goku–"

"Is a sentimental fool who will gladly give up his life to protect those he cares for," stated the prince sharply. "Moreover, he is a full-blooded saiyan – the want to fight runs in our veins and he would not turn down a battle against Frieza."

 _Or you_ , Bulma mentally added, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"Even if he knows he doesn't stand a chance?"

"Especially if he knows he doesn't stand a chance."

So, it wasn't so much brainless fighting that got a saiyan off, Bulma concluded. It was the challenge it presented, going into battle against an opponent who was, in some way, superior to them.

Did that mean Vegeta longed for a rematch to possibly prove his worth? To regain his title as the strongest saiyan? But what did that even matter when there were only two of them left? Unless it was more to do with pride, Bulma wondered curiously. That certainly made more sense than a meaningless title of being the strongest saiyan. After all, he'd repeatedly called Goku "third class", so with Vegeta being a prince, his pride was undoubtedly wounded from having seven shades beaten out of him by Goku and his friends.

 _Duly noted_ , she thought while refraining from frowning.

No matter what, she couldn't show any signs of weakness or uncertainty. She had to remain strong and assertive otherwise Vegeta would stamp all over her, never mind _walk_.

"The hope is to walk in unnoticed and grab only what we need – we can't get greedy." Just as Vegeta's brow began to furrow and she _sensed_ the snide comment about her intelligence forming, she interjected smoothly, saying, "But hoping won't get us anywhere. We need to smart about it and ready for all outcomes. With it being a station, they'll sense our arrival before we even enter the planet's atmosphere."

"Meaning fighting the moment we leave this ship," Chi-Chi said with a frown.

"Precisely." Looking between the two males of their dysfunctional team, Bulma said, "We're going to need your combined strength to try and keep the noise of our arrival as quiet as possible."

Finally, the overprotective personality Bulma had almost missed kicked in from the brunette and she leaned onto the table, glaring over at her. "He's not killing anyone–"

"Nobody said he had to," she clarified. Like hell she would ever order a child to kill people, even if they were coldblooded aliens. "Just knock them out and restrain them. That way, when they come to, they can't do anything or alert anyone."

"Your weakness will get us all killed," snapped Vegeta suddenly, his tone just as harsh as his expression. "Leaving an enemy alive will come back to bite us all in the ass."

"My dad left _you_ alive–"

"And one day he will regret it."

 _Don't react_ , she warned herself when Vegeta's cold voice silenced the room. If she reacted, she would no doubt let onto her thoughts and plans, because no matter how hard she tried, she would never perfect her poker face. And in their deadly game of chess, Bulma knew she had to keep several aces up her sleeve and at that moment in time, she only had one – she had to protect it at all costs.

"Moving on," she said dismissively with a roll of her eyes, knowing that was going to hit him way worse than anything else they had to offer. "Once we find a ship, I need you both to buy me some time to hack into the system. From there, it shouldn't take too long to hook the scouter up to it and override it completely."

"Got it," Gohan confirmed, nodding.

"Are the ships fully stocked?" she asked Vegeta.

"A maintenance crew cleans and restocks each ship when it arrives with enough supplies to last a few months."

Good. That bought them enough time to flee for as long and as far as possible, just in case they gave chase. "And are the main controls located in the docking station?"

"As far as I am aware."

She nodded in thanks. "While I'm working on the ship, I want one of you to destroy the main controls both in the docking station and in docked ships. Make them useless to them."

"Giving us a better chance of escape," Chi-Chi surmised.

Precisely. They had to go into it with quality skills, seeing as their opponents boasted quantity. Vegeta had already told her no one there posed a threat to him, but on the off chance that their combined strength bested them, they had to be prepared with a backup plan of escaping. He'd hate it, of course, but he would live.

"Does anyone have any questions or anything they want to add?" Other than Gohan's shaking head, silence was her only response, so Bulma ended the discussion with a, "Dig in!"

* * *

Even for a station Frieza never bothered with, it was remarkable.

Observing it calmly from her place at the control panel as she waited for the others to buckle up, she narrowed her hard blue eyes.

Despite setting up commands for their ship to land as close to the docking station as possible, she allowed room for error and counteracted the potential issue by spending the past couple of weeks' worth of travelling creating another size changing watch for Chi-Chi. That way, if they landed too far away, they merely had to shrink to a size that wouldn't burden the saiyans as they carried them to the docking station.

The fact that the planet was chosen as a station told Bulma that it was breathable for all species, but she ran a check just to confirm it anyway. Thankfully, it was. Having to use spacesuits put them at a huge disadvantage, for it would be way too easy to kill them.

She held her breath as they started their descent, breaking through the atmosphere harshly and Bulma knew, from the warning beeping of her control panel, that they'd been detected already, though she wasn't surprised in the least. In fact, she would have been disappointed had they failed to notice them.

"Are you guys ready?" she asked through gritted teeth, hands threatening to tremble as she gripped a tight hold of the steering wheel.

The winds were powerful on the planet, it appeared and Bulma could feel it in the tilting ship that threatened to be blown back from the force. It worried her – even though the planet's air was breathable, there was the potential of the winds being too strong for her and Chi-Chi to handle.

Whereas Chi-Chi and Gohan sounded their agreement, she noticed Vegeta's head dipping lower, his dark and narrowed gaze fixated on the planet that was steadily growing closer. Bulma could tell from that look, in addition to the disgusting intent in the air around them, that he was itching to be set loose on the people who'd once been his comrades and it threatened to send a shudder down her spine.

But she didn't have time to worry about that.

Cursing when the old ship surrendered to the formidable winds, she resisted the urge to nurse her throbbing wrist. The steering wheel being wrenched sideways in response to the change of course and her stubborn hold on it had caused a sprain – she could tell it was nothing more simply because she _could_ still move it.

Large hands took over by covering hers, much to her astonishment, but Bulma had no time to stare up at Vegeta in surprise or wonder when he got up or whether it was even safe for him to do so. Instead, with great effort and while ignoring the ache is caused, she shifted her grasp, guiding him into easing the ship down as easily as possible. The difference his unwavering strength made was laughable, since she'd struggled each time in steadying the old ship during each landing. She'd assumed it was entirely down to the ship, but alas, that was not the case. It was her lack of strength.

She didn't utter a thanks, just as Vegeta didn't wait to hear one. They had to act fast.

The moment they landed, they were on the move. Both she and Chi-Chi shrunk themselves and stepped onto the hands waiting for them. While Gohan tucked his mother with care into his white collar, Bulma hid her disgust with great effort when Vegeta settled her in the tattered remains of his armour. They had bigger concerns than his stench and besides, since his joining them, he'd washed it multiple times. The smell wasn't even as bad anymore… or so she told herself.

"They're coming for us," Gohan stated with clenching fists, eyes drawn to the window.

"Don't stop," ordered Vegeta as he took charge. Bulma didn't argue. She knew he was much better suited to battle strategies than she was. "Aim for single blows to dispatch of them, but do not expend more energy than necessary and do not, under any circumstance, waver or slow down. Understand?"

The young boy gulped, and she slowed in rubbing her swelling wrist, frowning over at him uneasily. She could sense his indecision and fear and knew the conflict running through his mind – a mind so like his father's, always hoping for the best, always wanting to _see_ the best. Killing or harming someone who hadn't wronged him was an act that would never sit well with either of them.

But then he nodded, eyes remaining fearful but expression determined. "I'm ready."

As predicted, the winds made breathing difficult and the intense high speed flying the two saiyans suddenly began didn't help in the slightest. Squeezing her eyes shut to block out the sight of the dark purple sky blurring sickeningly, Bulma couldn't resist the urge turn in Vegeta's shirt, head tilting downwards to try and fight the winds and resume ordinary breathing.

She hoped Chi-Chi was holding up, though in after a split second, could no longer think of her when Vegeta's muscles rippled in warning, the lashing out of his arms alerting to his attacking someone.

Her eyes shut tighter, even though it made them ache.

Liquid that was only hot for a few brief moments until the wind froze it had Bulma recoiling in revulsion, for there was no denying what was soaking into her clothing and staining her skin. Was he doing it on purpose? Did he get off on knowing he was pissing her off or making her feel nauseous?

Fortunately, they weren't too far out from the docking station, although they encountered several platoons on their journey there. Each enemy was dispatched of without hesitation on Vegeta's side. He didn't falter, didn't stagger, didn't lose even a fraction of the speed he was travelling at and she wondered if Gohan was any different, or if he was struggling.

It was when they landed and deemed it safe enough to leave the safety of the saiyans' clothing that Bulma got her answers.

Whereas blood coated a great deal of herself and Vegeta, there wasn't a single drop of the stuff on Gohan or Chi-Chi, informing her that he'd taken care of them all single-handedly. However, she wasn't foolish enough to believe it was done out of the kindness of his heart. No, Vegeta would have killed them all to ensure there were no loose ends or risks created from Gohan's gentle heart.

Still, a part of her was grateful for that.

Glancing around curiously, Bulma found herself at a loss for words as she carefully assessed the docking station. The impressive space that held way too many ships to count was lit up brilliantly – not a single corner was shrouded in darkness, allowing them to feel a small amount of safety, since it meant nobody was trying to hide from them.

"Do you know any of these?" she asked the saiyan prince once returned to her ordinary size.

"They are all more or less the same model," he responded blandly. "Any will do."

There were so many to choose from, all looming over them and bringing forth a surge of excitement within Bulma as she imagined herself piloting them. However, there was no time for hanging around and so she chose the newest looking ship for entirely superficial reasons, slipping her scouter over her eye while jogging over to it.

"Chi-Chi, destroy the main controls," she ordered. Pressing the button that granted her access to the ship, she fought against her childish delight when the door fell to the ground, presenting them with stairs to enter. "Gohan and Vegeta, destroy the other ships but make sure you're both keeping an eye out for enemies, too."

Waiting for their affirmatives was a waste of time, so Bulma took the stairs two at a time in her hurry to get going.

The ship wasn't luxurious in the slightest, but it was certainly better than what they'd had up until that point (plus, she had capsules filled with home comforts, making the basic ship more bearable when she reminded herself of that fact). Upon entering, she was greeted with a controls room, much wider than the one she'd grown used to. It boasted a long panel of buttons and knobs, all in a foreign language that her scouter easily interpreted for her, much to Bulma's relief. For a second, she'd worried that it was a language she hadn't discovered before.

Loud crashes and _booms_ echoed throughout the station, alerting her that she had to speed up.

After figuring out how to hook her scouter up to the system, her fingers flew through the buttons she'd quickly familiarised herself with, doing her utmost not to grow distracted by the fighting outside. First, she focused entirely on switching the system into her own and once she heard the voice that they'd acquainted themselves with, Bulma then focused on locating all hidden files, also ordering her software to thoroughly search through the system.

Yelling from outside told her she was taking too long and she narrowed her eyes, quietly cheering herself on when she discovered the tracking chip. Even when the voice of her software informed Bulma it was deactivated, she searched beneath the control panel, carefully searching through the odd array of mechanisms and wires until she spotted a green light blinking.

"Scan it," she ordered once the scouter was back on. It no longer needed to be plugged in now that she'd managed to override their operating system. The ship was hers as of that moment and she resisted the urge to grin victoriously. "Is it a tracking chip?"

" _Backup tracking chip."_

Paranoia paid off, she praised herself.

It was simple destroying the chip and for good measure, she chucked it out into the station, calling the other members of her odd team to retreat. Somewhere, somehow, Vegeta had acquired new armour that was completely different to the one he'd worn on earth, though she didn't question it. She couldn't. There was no time.

The docking station was in utter chaos. Black smoke made it almost impossible to see the others, filling the station without hesitation and she knew from the smell alone that engines were on fire – another indicator that they had to leave immediately, lest they wished to get caught in the multiple explosions. When a single button was pressed, her scouter aided in bettering her sensing them, though unfortunately also allowing Bulma to see that there were bodies strewn all over the place.

She waited for Chi-Chi to board the ship before starting it up, a part of herself relaxing when she found that the newer, updated system had a piloting assistant – something she undoubtedly needed, considering she'd struggled with the older, much smaller ship.

The younger woman was anxiously waiting by the door, gripping the metal frame tightly in her already bruised knuckles. It was a shock to see her right eye swelling before her, telling her that Chi-Chi had been fighting alongside the two men. Not that Bulma should have really doubted her – if she'd sensed Gohan struggling or needing assistance, then nothing would stop the younger woman from being by his side. Not even being laughably weaker.

Bulma envied that courage.

"Ships?" she demanded.

"Destroyed," Chi-Chi responded distractedly.

"Main controls?"

"Gone."

"Those two?"

"Here," a bruised Gohan panted, wincing when he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground by Vegeta.

"Hurry up," Vegeta ordered, the door shutting behind him with an air of finality. "There's more coming."

Scouter flaring to life as it picked up on multiple energies flying straight for them, Bulma pressed a final button and the sudden movement of the ship as it lurched upwards had her gasping in shock, the pain of her wrist flaring horrifically when she held fast onto the panel to keep herself steady. Unlike the old ship, there were no seats directly before it – she had to remain standing somehow.

Chi-Chi was the first to fall to her knees when they shot through the planet's atmosphere, eyes shutting in relief as she reached out, hand settling on Gohan's shoulder like she was reassuring herself that they'd made it out somehow. The boy grinned victoriously in response to his mother, breathing still uneven.

It had her wondering what they each went through during their battles, or what they'd seen.

Bulma wiped the sweat off her brow until she winced and cradled her swelling wrist. It looked awful, but as much as she wanted to complain, she knew she had no right. Not when the others were littered in bruises and cuts and _so much blood_.

So instead, she retrieved her pocket-sized case filled with capsules, waving them proudly and hoping nobody could see through the fake smile.

"Mission completed!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long!


	10. Take Away Everything I Am

**Chapter 9**

**Take Away Everything I Am**

* * *

The sensors on the ship were phenomenal, leaving Bulma to all but salivate as she examined them, using her software to translate the alien language for her.

In layman's terms, they could sense potential attacks or dangerous ships for up to two hundred and fifty miles _on all sides of them_. How that was even possible was a mystery to her, but Bulma was sure as hell up for the challenge of figuring it out.

Alien technology was fascinating to her. Even the apparently simple stuff that made Vegeta scoff whenever she expressed her enthusiasm towards it.

"Like his opinion even matters," she mumbled while holding a torch between her teeth.

Lying flat on her back and staring up at the nifty design of wires and chips above her, Bulma inwardly squealed with joy at the fact it was all placed in such a tidy manner. There was nothing worse than delving into any kind of machinery only to find a shitstorm of wires that took _forever_ to detangle.

They'd been aboard their new ship for roughly three days now and Bulma _still_ hadn't finished investigating each of the rooms. She took what she assumed to be the biggest (a complete opposite to Vegeta's box room, she'd noticed while passing him yesterday morning), acquainted herself with the communal areas and must-knows, before diving headfirst into the technology that sung to her like a siren.

While it was huge, the interior was designed in a space-saving way, much to her dismay. Some rooms were bigger than others, but none were luxurious. That would _have_ to change at some point, she'd repeatedly told herself while tutting and shaking her head, because expecting her to sleep comfortably on a single bed, when she hadn't done so since she was four years old, was bordering on barbaric (she made a mental note to once more search through her capsules to find more home comforts, also).

Should it matter when travelling space to find a ruthless tyrant who'd potentially enslaved her friend? Nope, but it mattered to her, so that was that.

Inhaling sharply when large hands grasped at her ankles and yanked with unnecessary force, Bulma was powerless to stop herself from being manhandled. All she could do was stare up at the agitated expression of the saiyan prince as he glared down at her, caging her in imposingly.

He did it on purpose – the lack of distance between them, she meant. It was his way of asserting his dominance, of attempting to intimidate her into submitting and allowing him to walk all over her. Did it work? Sadly, kind of. Although it was established that he wouldn't kill her, Vegeta was still a horrendously heartless villain who couldn't be trusted. But as of late she'd been pushing back against him, matching his domination with a stubbornness that often times left him speechless or amused.

So, she returned his glare with her own unimpressed glower when the hands that'd once been roughly yanking on her ankles soon pressed to the ground on each side of her head. The compromising position didn't affect her in the slightest, and to drive that point home and make a blow to his male pride, Bulma glanced down between their bodies and raised an eyebrow, lips quirking upwards like she was ready to laugh.

Dark eyes narrowed.

"Very cute," she remarked teasingly. "Now, if you're done acting like a Neanderthal, I have a control–"

"I have another task for you."

What the hell did he think she was? Some kind of slave? Okay, so she conceded the fact that, in the beginning, she was wary of stepping on his toes or pissing him off and more often than not genuinely feared for her life–

Wait, where was she supposed to be going with that?

"Hell no," she snapped in return, emboldened by the watch sitting comfortably on her wrist. That and he'd said he wouldn't kill her. "Do it yourself."

The superciliousness and animosity dripped from him revoltingly and Bulma envisioned it splattering on her skin, threatening to taint her when Vegeta lowered himself, smirking nastily. At least he smelled better now, she thought to herself with a grimace, and he was now wearing proper armour, rather than the soiled, tattered reminder of his torture.

"What else will you do besides waste time and energy staring up at wires all damn day?"

She pursed her lips to hold back her profanities and tired old excuses of analysing alien technology. They were all no doubt bored of hearing about her research by now.

"Face it: you don't know what the hell you're doing."

Her brows furrowed, gaze averting from Vegeta's and focusing on the shiny red toolbox she'd left just out of reach.

"So instead of being completely useless and pretending to be busy in here, how about you get off your ass and actually do something productive?"

Oh, that was a low blow. Incredibly low. And Bulma was thoroughly ashamed to admit that her pride took a great deal of the impact of his words. But what else was she supposed to do? If she studied the alien technology, then that meant she could help out in some way or another, rather than turning up with her substandard inventions that never truly offered any assistance in battles with overpowered aliens.

Blue eyes reluctantly met Vegeta's when he roughly tipped her chin up and forced them to meet. There was no use in fighting it. Not only was he so much stronger than she was, but he was equally as stubborn and whiny. If she refused him, Vegeta would drone on and on and she simply couldn't deal with it.

"Like what?" she demanded, hoping the venom in her words wasn't missed or ruined by the emotions weighing her down. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Hack into Frieza's ship."

Bulma deadpanned.

He was insane. Absolutely batshit crazy.

And he was about to see her toeing her way into the crazy side too. Not full blown crazy but revealing the potential, because what he was suggesting was stupidly dangerous and put all their lives at risk.

"First of all, jackass, how am I supposed to hack into a ship I have no knowledge of? I've never even seen it!" Yanking her chin free required more strength than she'd realised it would need, and Bulma inwardly cringed at the immediate crick in her neck but refused to let the discomfort show. "Second of all, if I can't even understand this stuff, how am I supposed to hack into a tyrant's ship? When he undoubtedly has people working for him to prevent that?" Gods, she wanted to hit him or at the very least shove him away, but she knew it was a futile battle, so settled on glaring up at him instead. "Third of all, do you know how massively that would open us up to him? If – and it's a huge ass _if_ – we manage to do this, Frieza could have someone track us without us knowing until it's too late!"

Huffing and rolling his eyes, Vegeta pushed away from her and sat back on his haunches. "Just do it, human."

"No!"

"What else are you good for?" he sneered, his draining patience visible in the vein protruding on his forehead. "Even Kakarot's mate does more around here than you."

She faltered in sitting up, unable to hide the other vicious bruising her pride had just received.

Chi-Chi was doing a great amount around the ship, ranging from feeding them all, cleaning and training her son in both his studies _and_ martial arts. Was it up to Goku standards or enough to tire Gohan out? No, but it was all new techniques and Gohan lunged at the opportunity to exercise, grateful that his mother was finally opening up to the notion of him becoming a warrior.

Vegeta was right. Compared to Chi-Chi, she _was_ useless and hardly did anything around the ship. But in her defence, engineering was her specialty, so much so that Bulma could reluctantly admit to never paying much attention in other areas. Her cooking was subpar, cleaning skills lazy and lacking. And she knew nothing of martial arts. Sure, she could tutor Gohan, but it would probably have to be in her area of expertise, and she wasn't sure if that interested him.

What else was she supposed to do with herself other than trying to better her knowledge? If she copied Chi-Chi's example, then Bulma _knew_ she would be wasting her time with mundane housewife tasks and that simply _wasn't her_. She never _wanted_ it to be her.

Was it worth risking being discovered by Frieza's engineers? Being as evil as he was, Frieza would have a stunning number of enemies lurking in the dark, biding their time for the best moment to strike. Surely someone like him would consider the possibility of (if it hadn't happened already) someone hacking into his ship and trying to take him out that way, so that they wouldn't have to be near him? It was what she would've done when she was younger and more naïve.

"It's not worth being detected or tracked," she argued once more, calmly. "They'll be on the lookout for a stolen ship, too. We need to keep our heads down."

"You want us to sit around and wait for death," he accused with venom. Standing as tall as he could, he glowered down at her, but she copied his stance, unleashing every ounce of self-confidence and defiance she possessed. "That is all we're doing right now – waiting."

The idea of being sitting ducks _had_ passed through her mind several times, but that was why she was running off three to five hours of sleep every night – to try and find ways to better protect themselves. All tracking chips were destroyed and thrown out of the waste compartment, left to drift through space on the off chance someone still managed to detect them. She set the safety mechanisms so goddamn high on the system that it was a miracle she could even access it herself. And just recently, she'd drawn out a plan to further upgrade her watch, so that she could communicate with the ship through it. Yes, she had the scouter for that, but backups were a godsend.

"We're strategizing and waiting for his counter," Bulma shot back boldly. Throwing a hand behind herself in the general direction of the control panel, she snapped, "We need to know how this is being taken by Frieza or his men and be sure we're not being followed."

"We're not," Vegeta said with unsettling certainty.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I killed everyone at that station who posed a threat."

Any retort she could have thought out blanked straight out of her mind. The callous way he brought up murdering people who were once his comrades – no, scratch that, murdering people in general – was with sickening ease. Like it didn't even register in Vegeta's mind as being wrong or evil.

It had Bulma once more finding herself staring the irate prince down with a numbed sense of dread trickling across her scalp and down her spine. Part of her whispered terrifyingly that she was staring at the embodiment of evil, but another part had a more ominous whisper, wondering what that made Frieza.

"It's not possible," she tried weakly, damning herself for the lack of conviction or strength in her voice. "I don't know anything about his ship or where it's located. Chances are, it'll run off a more secure version of the system we have because of who Frieza is, and he'll have technicians keeping an eye on hackers."

"You–"

"We need to be smart about this," Bulma said and she was glad that she was firmer that time, her words making Vegeta pause. "I get that you're feeling antsy – it sucks just waiting around for their next move. But with having no specific destination in mind, that gives us the time and opportunity to visit other planets and listen to the gossip."

"Gossip?" he demanded, fury returning. "You want me to waste my time-"

"They'll have news on Frieza and potentially his whereabouts," she argued calmly despite the pounding of her heart. The tense atmosphere was getting too much for her, and she wanted the conversation over and done with. "And if not Frieza, then his men." When he merely glared at her in disgusted anger, she questioned more harshly, "Tell me, Stupid Saiyan, would someone like Goku stand out amongst Frieza's men and make people talk?"

The throbbing vein in his forehead returned, and she found it difficult keeping herself from staring in morbid fascination, wondering if Vegeta would give himself an aneurysm.

"No matter what torture he goes through, Goku will always be too gentle and kind-hearted to take another's life," Bulma said resolutely, putting her unshakeable beliefs and love for Goku into her words, demanding Vegeta believed them too. "You saw that when he let you go, instead of killing you. Goku knew you could return to finish him off – and that we'd have no warning that time – but he still let you, the enemy who had a part to play in the deaths of his friends, go."

"Is that how you view it?" he asked, the return of his cruel smirk unsettling her further. "Am I the enemy who killed your friends?"

Her jaw clenched.

"Do you hate me, Little Human?"

She couldn't answer.

"Are you a saint just like your precious Kakarot?" he sneered and closed the distance between them. The narrowing of his hateful eyes sent an uncontrollable shudder down her spine, fists clenching to fight against the sudden unignorable weight of her watch. "Or are you more like me?"

Like…

"I can see your hate beneath the fear," Vegeta said with a dark chuckle. Sickening her, he lowered his head to her neck and inhaled deeply. "I can smell your bad intentions on you."

She shut her eyes, willing herself to be strong, to keep everything hidden. Vegeta couldn't find out the truth about her watch, or her backup plans in case he turned on them. What would he do to her if he found out about them?

"Is that why you whine so much about how righteous that third class trash is?"

It made her uneasily lightheaded when she felt Vegeta's breath on her face, and she kept her eyes shut, willing her palpitating heart to calm the hell down. He wasn't touching her, she reminded herself repeatedly. And if he tried anything, she had the watch that was currently scorching her skin, survival instincts already demanding she used it and ran like hell while the effects kept him down.

She chose to ignore them.

"You act as though you're better than me," he murmured and even with her eyes closed, they stung with unshed tears. "But the truth is, you have darkness inside of you too. That's why you hold onto Kakarot not losing himself. You believe if he can do it, so can you."

She wanted to deny it, wanted to deny it with every ounce of strength and passion she possessed.

"Tell me, Little Human," he said almost seductively, and she shivered once more at the ghost of a touch on her neck, damning herself to the deepest depths of hell for giving him any kind of reaction. "How hard do I have to push you, for you to give into the darkness and fight back?"

Cursing herself for doing so, she opened her eyes, warily meeting his dark gaze.

Vegeta was a master of mind games, she belatedly told herself and being the stubborn woman that she was, she'd fallen headfirst into one of his traps, effortlessly allowing him to take control of their spat. And, horrifyingly, she wasn't sure how to take said control back. She didn't know what to do.

"We _will_ do things my way," he muttered sinfully, and much to her horror, her stupid, weak-willed and entirely _human_ body gave in to the sensation of his touch as the backs of his fingers ran up her side, soon settling over her heart. "Even if I have to break you."


	11. And Watch the Shell Come Unravelled

**Chapter 10**

**And** **Watch the Shell Come Unravelled**

* * *

_Even if I have to break you._

There were many insinuations behind his words when looking at individual trees, but Bulma could see the entire forest and knew that his ulterior motive was to drag her over to the dark side, to make her stoop to his level, so that they would move at _his_ pace.

No matter what, that couldn't happen. She couldn't let him manipulate her.

Rushing into an attack against someone like Frieza (someone strong enough to make Vegeta, the guy who'd almost crippled three of the strongest fighters on her planet _by himself_ , appear as weak as herself _)_ was the equivalent of downing a whole bottle of painkillers.

As bleak as their future looked in that moment, and as horrifically as she missed her dead loved ones, Bulma did not want to join them in the afterlife anytime soon. More importantly, she couldn't allow an innocent child to join their friends any time soon. So if she had to butt heads with Vegeta every day for as long as it took for them to grow stronger, then she would.

Was there anything she could do to keep that from draining her, though? Could she mentally protect herself in some way from his manipulation and mind games?

If she couldn't protect herself, which she definitely couldn't because aside from her watch, she was psychically completely defenceless against Vegeta, then the very least Bulma knew she could do was find a way to go against him mentally – and their spats didn't count. He basically walked all over her each time, merely because Bulma didn't want to suffer the consequences if her smart mouth pushed him too far.

She needed something other than the watch to put him in his place when necessary, to give her more confidence to go up against him and make her voice heard. Arguing with Vegeta was getting her nowhere. What Bulma _needed_ was for him to take notice of her and respect what she had to say, for it would surely help their teamwork run more smoothly in the long run.

Weapons were hit or miss simply because she couldn't test them out to know what a saiyan could withstand (since she didn't want to actually kill the guy) – she could make her own damn armoury but the potential of it all being useless was way too high for Bulma to ever be comfortable with the idea. Not to mention it'd make a guy like Vegeta _extremely_ suspicious of her.

That left her with only one other option.

And as ridiculous as she felt for even entertaining such a thought, part of her heart was comforted by the notion of taking up a hobby her friends had been so passionate about.

All Bulma had to do was find a way to ask.

* * *

 _It's now or never_ , she told herself upon entering the kitchen area, the words flying from her mouth without a second of hesitation. She'd never been one to beat around the bush.

Her request was purely impulsive and held no real purpose, since even if she decided to humour her and accepted, it wouldn't make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things, just take Vegeta by surprise if he backed her into a corner. But it was… Bulma knew it was ridiculous, but it was something _he_ – they all – loved and now that none of them were around to protect her anymore, she knew it was finally time to step up and protect herself.

"Okay."

Okay? That was it? "What, no argument?"

Remaining stood at the overloaded area beside the sink, the younger woman didn't so much as glance over her shoulder at Bulma – hadn't even flinched at the request. It was almost as though she'd been expecting something along those lines.

Chi-Chi sighed at the question, though her hands never once faltered in scrubbing the dishes, continuing her quick and efficient washing. Just as fast as the pile had formed, it disappeared, not for the first time reminding Bulma that she would make an awful housewife, since it took her four times as long to wash just a tenth of what Chi-Chi had to do (and that wasn't including the hour-long prep talk that was needed to get her ass into gear). That was probably why she no longer asked for assistance in the kitchen, though Bulma also supposed she was used to catering for a full blooded saiyan and a half saiyan. A human's appetite was nothing in comparison to that.

Shooting a glance towards the door from the corner of her eye, she said almost completely under her breath, "I don't like the way he's sniffing around you."

She'd noticed that too?

Swallowing, Bulma drifted closer to the younger woman until she had her hip propped up against the counter, however, she never dared to interrupt the constant flow of washing, instead staring in awe at the rapidly disappearing pile.

"What makes it worse is that even with Gohan here, we're no match for a monster like him," Chi-Chi spat hatefully, though continued to keep her voice low. "And then I hate myself for even considering having my own son fight someone like that, especially after the last time he went against him."

She could only remain silent, knowing that no matter what she said, it wouldn't alleviate Chi-Chi's anxieties – anxiety Bulma _knew_ she'd had a hand in putting on her. Sure, it wasn't all plain sailing and happy-go-lucky before Vegeta's joining them, but since he had, it was evident how his presence impacted the mother more than anyone. And how wouldn't it? Vegeta had a hand in the deaths of their friends, he singlehandedly almost killed not only her husband, but son and another friend. And his whole invasion of their planet was the reason behind its downfall, behind the deaths of the family they'd had no other choice in leaving behind.

"Restraints or not, we're at his mercy," she hissed down at one particular dish, making Bulma wonder if Vegeta had eaten from that one specifically. Then, like Chi-Chi realised how angry she'd gotten so suddenly, for the first time since joining her, she faltered in her cleaning, placing her hands on the edge of the counter so that she could take a deep, calming breath, seemingly not noticing when suds splashed upwards at the abrupt dropping of the dish back into the water. "I accept your reasons for involving him. I accept that he may truly be our only way of saving my husband."

Bulma bit her lip at the momentary silence before reluctantly asking, "But?"

"But I won't hide my feelings for his sake," she told her without leaving any room for arguments.

It was only fair, Bulma supposed. Besides, she highly doubted he even felt bad about all he'd done in his lifetime, even if he _was_ a product of his environment or a victim of Frieza's tyranny. She'd already seen for herself that he held no remorse for the horrors he'd created around the universe and enjoyed tormenting those who were much weaker than himself, so why _should_ Chi-Chi hide her disdain and accusations? Why would she try and make his life easier for him?

Vegeta deserved judgement on his past and all he'd done.

"Just…" Sighing, Bulma set to putting the dishes away, finally deciding to lend her friend a hand even if she didn't want it. "Just don't go challenging him, okay? I kind of need you alive, Chi-Chi."

The dark-haired woman scoffed, the sound bringing her out of her horrible mood and bringing forth a chuckle which soon erupted into full blown giggles at her next words. "Like I would let a man like that kill me."

Bulma didn't doubt her words, and fully expected Chi-Chi to survive the whole ordeal out of sheer stubbornness.

"Thank you," she added quietly after several minutes of silent cleaning, pausing to meet the brunette's eye. "I know it's crazy thinking it'll make even the smallest of changes, but…"

Something in that eternally stern expression cracked, and Chi-Chi offered her a small smile of empathy. "Goku always said that it's a good thing you're not a warrior – he was scared enough of you as it was."

The words would have made her laugh had it not been for the weight in her heart. "I'll make sure to give him hell for calling me scary."

Dark eyes grew glassy, features a mixture of hope and despair. "Good."

* * *

They were set for a minimum of three months' worth of travel (not including their own supplies that they'd brought from the previous ship), and Bulma was in awe of how the technicians in Frieza's army managed such an impressive feat. Their previous ship had needed constant reconfiguration, maintenance and restocking – granted, it was older than Master Roshi and from a completely different planet to wherever Frieza was from, but it was impossible not to compare the two.

Oh, who was she to complain when Earth was even further behind than Namek? Even their old ship was far superior to anything Earth created, for they lacked the materials to produce anything capable of travelling into space.

With little else to do until after lunch when her first session with Chi-Chi started, Bulma busied herself with the capsules in her tin, taking herself to the training room since it was big enough to allow room for mistakes. She didn't have to worry too greatly if she accidentally released a capsule home, or needed to in order to grab furniture from inside of one (which she totally planned on doing). If she was lucky enough, perhaps she'd even have more clothes in a few of them.

The only downside was that she had a limited amount of time to get as much done as possible before Vegeta was finished with his breakfast. Chances were, she would have to get everything she wanted over the span of a few days. It was ridiculous, but Bulma knew not to push her luck. She was lucky to even get access to the training rooms as it was and she was definitely factoring in Vegeta finishing breakfast early just to yell at her.

"Miss Bulma?"

Oh, goody. Just as she was beginning to question _how_ she would move so much heavy furniture by herself (risking her recently painted red nails), a perfect candidate entered the equation and eased her concerns.

"Gohan, just the person I needed," she greeted warmly, smiling. "Care to lend a hand? I'm trying to make this place feel more like home."

"More like home?" Despite his uncertainty, she was grateful for the kid approaching without hesitation, looking to her with an expression that screamed he was happy to help. So much like his father, Bulma thought with a wave of sadness. "But why? We shouldn't be here for too long now that Vegeta has joined us, right?"

Nope, not right at all, was what she _should have said_. Instead, Bulma forced herself to smile levelly, hoping that it didn't look as strained as it felt. "Sure, kid. But in the meantime, I'm feeling really homesick and want some home comforts. You know how you love your mom's cooking?" He nodded, grinning at just the thought of the grand meals. "Well, that's what my belongings mean to me. They're like going home to your mom's cooking."

No further convincing was needed on her part and Bulma smiled triumphantly when Gohan darted inside to retrieve anything she could list off the top of her head. Then, as she was forced to enter the homes and point out the items that she wanted, he doubled his time, carefully placing everything to the far wall of the training room.

They managed to replace the majority of the furniture in her bedroom and the living area, and Bulma gleefully added tens of new outfits to her wardrobe. She'd also happened to find makeup, although half of it hadn't been sealed, meaning it was used at some point and no telling how long ago, either. _That_ was a bummer, although she supposed without her specially designed products to cleanse her face, it was for the best that she didn't wear any.

"This is a lot of stuff, Miss Bulma," Gohan pointed out. "Are they all home comforts?"

"Yep," she replied cheerfully. Absolutely _not_ her being superficial or a lowkey hoarder.

Arm coming to rest atop his head after a playful ruffle of his hair, Bulma maintained her cheery grin as she assessed the belongings her parents had kitted the capsule homes out with, even when it felt like she was shattering inside.

Definitely not a hoarder, she reminded herself shakily.

She hadn't anticipated the sudden waves of grief that crashed into her at the sight of the carefully picked furniture. It was so stupid, Bulma told herself repeatedly, internally screaming at herself that she was being way too sentimental over it all. All she was supposed to feel in that moment was relief for having stylish, comfortable furniture in an alien spaceship. Instead, all she could picture as she looked at it all was her mother's thinking pose as she scoured catalogues until deciding none of them were good enough, soon bringing out her sketchpad to design her own. All she could see was her father with that stupid cat of his, asking it if they had enough yet while petting it.

" _C'mon, Bulma,"_ she could almost hear Yamcha saying with a nervous chuckle. He'd always been unsure about confronting her. " _You don't need all this stuff."_

But she did. She needed it all.

It was all she had left of them.

"Miss Bulma?"

 _Don't let him see you're upset,_ she warned herself fiercely.

"Let's get started with moving it all," she suggested with what was no doubt way too much enthusiasm, blinking away the tears. "Vegeta will be finishing his breakfast soon."

* * *

Fixing her sports bra to rest more comfortably, Bulma admired herself in the body length mirror.

Gods, she had a nice waist. And she was willing to bet Vegeta's controller that it was only going to look better after a few of Chi-Chi's sessions. She'd be ripped like her fighters in no time!

She left her room with a flick of her ponytail, forgoing the shirt she'd originally planned on wearing and choosing a vest top instead. Why would she want to drown her figure when she looked as good as she did, especially after such a huge meal that should have made her feel sluggish, bloated and gross?

Chi-Chi was already waiting for her when she entered the space chosen for their training session – of course, they weren't allowed to use the actual training room. That was reserved for the prince of all two and a half saiyans and if they dared to intrude or step on his holy ground, they would undoubtedly be pulverised – verbally, of course.

The area they were forced to use was a storage space, and she assessed the carefully stacked boxes of non-perishables that were strapped to the walls, granting them more room to move around. Bulma believed it to be more than enough room for them both, especially considering they had no intentions of going any further than self-defence.

Stretching her arms out languidly, she offered the younger woman a grin, undeniably feeling hyped about the training sessions.

Bulma was well aware that she would never be up to the levels of her friends – hell, she would be lucky if she gained even half of Chi-Chi's strength, considering the younger woman had been training more or less her whole life. But something was better than nothing, she repeatedly told herself, channelling her friends' positivity. That way, she wasn't totally defenceless.

"Stretch properly," Chi-Chi ordered, shocking her with the sudden change to her tone. While always a stern woman, she'd never been so… Was there even a word for it? Bulma could only stare in shock, mouth parting slightly. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

 _That_ got her ass into gear and she was quick to copy the stretches, not wanting to evoke the wrath that was seemingly surface level. Briefly, Bulma wondered whether she'd crossed paths with Vegeta (his face always seemed to piss her off beyond belief) but didn't have long to think it over due to the switch up in pace.

"Don't think I'll be going easy on you," Chi-Chi warned her during their warmup, and she could feel her critical stare assessing every inch of her body. Was this what it felt like to be self-conscious, Bulma wondered? "And if you whine about it, I'll make it ten times harder."

Poor Gohan, she thought with a bead of sweat running down her temple. How did he cope with a mother as strict as she was? Wait, he didn't, did he? Gohan simply did everything she asked to avoid her wrath, wasting his youth away sat at a desk, studying.

Oh Gods, was that to be her fate on the ship now? Trapped in the storage room, training? They were only five minutes in, if that, and already Bulma was beginning to regret her decision, her lack of cardio already evident as she struggled to maintain her careful breathing she'd learned from yoga. And damn it, she was developing a horrific stitch too!

"That's enough of the warmup," Chi-Chi said, sparing Bulma as she dropped her hands to her knees and panted harshly. The daring side of her wanted to demand in what world _that_ was considered a warmup, though shied away from doing so at the serious gleam in the dark-haired woman's eye. "I just want to clarify before we get started: don't expect any miracles from this training. I've never been skilled enough to master the art of using my ki, meaning I won't be able to properly teach you how to either."

Bulma nodded, a question she never even realised she wanted to ask, finally and unknowingly being answered. After all, it was odd for the wife of a powerful martial artist such as Goku to not know how to use her ki, or how to fly or shoot those blasts from her palms, wasn't it? Especially considering how young her son managed to master said techniques?

"Most importantly: this is all on you. I can only teach you so much. You have to _want_ to become stronger for it to happen."

Again, she nodded, finally managing to regulate her breathing and stand up straight, meeting the other woman's eye determinedly.

"So don't get cocky," warned Chi-Chi seriously and a flash of concern shone through that seemingly unwavering intensity. "These lessons won't make you even a fraction as powerful as those guys, but I agreed because at least this way, you're not wholly defenceless. It could buy you time."

In other words: don't go picking fights with Vegeta.

Duly noted.

"Even better, you're smart and have the chance to make some kind of weapon powerful enough to take down monsters like Vegeta or Frieza." Lowering herself into a fighting stance that filled Bulma with dread (because this was actually happening and Chi-Chi looked deadly as hell), the younger woman gave her all of two seconds to prepare herself before lunging forward. "Dodge everything!"

Shit.

_Oh shit!_

How in the seven hells was she supposed to dodge everything when Chi-Chi's speed was insane? And that was without the strength in her blows threatening to knock her off balance, telling Bulma from just a clip on her forearm that the other woman was holding nothing back. If she took a single punch, if it hit her in just the right spot, she would be knocked out cold.

Somehow, crazily enough, she _heard_ the sound of Chi-Chi's fist connecting against her arm before she even felt it, but when the pain hit, it had her blue eyes widening comically and she dropped, miraculously missing the next punch that was aimed for her head.

"Holy shit, Chi-Chi," she yelled at her, flinching when she registered more movement even though the other woman was merely stopping in her onslaught.

Bulma cradled the abused arm to her chest, the automatic response to hurl obscenities and sob her heart out almost impossible to ignore. Damn it, how did anyone in a fight _not_ drop from the pain? Was it adrenaline? Where was _her_ adrenaline? Why didn't she possess any fight or flights tendencies? Why did she simply give up, just barely keeping herself from curling up into a ball? Was that why Vegeta picked on her so much? Was she easy pickings?

How had she even survived so long?

"You can't stop to cry during a battle," came the harsh teaching. "Get up!"

Nope. She couldn't. It hurt way too much.

"Bulma!"

" _Stop shouting at me!"_

"Get up then!"

She couldn't do it. She should have known that it was a bad idea from the start. What the hell was she even thinking? Her? A fighter? Gods, if only Yamcha could hear and see her now – he would've laughed his ass off at the absurdity of it all, saying something along the lines of, _"C'mon, babe. Fighting isn't your style."_

Tears filled her eyes, but whether it was due to the agony or the memory of her dead boyfriend or her horrific morning in general, she wasn't entirely sure. All Bulma knew was that she'd messed up and wanted to crawl back to her lab or room filled with memories to nurse her bruised pride, for it surely hurt far more than her arm.

And at the sight of her tears, Chi-Chi's hard shell cracked, her dark eyes softening. "Bulma…"

Trying to learn self-defence, trying to understand what was so fucking good about beating the shit out of each other, filling her room with superficial items that she secretly couldn't care less about, teaming up with a mass murdering psychopath in the hopes of bringing down some tyrant who may or may not have taken her oldest friend captive, _after_ ordering the destruction of her planet…

Chi-Chi said it herself: even with the lessons, she had no hopes in going against anything outside _or_ inside their ship.

It was pointless. All of it. None of it mattered.

"Look, let's take a break," suggested Chi-Chi quietly. "We can try again tomorrow."

" _Tomorrow?"_ she demanded brokenly, grip tightening even when it made the pain in her arm flare. "Are you blind? Can't you see me right now?" Silence had Bulma gritting her teeth angrily, legs trembling as she dragged herself to her feet. "They'd all be laughing at me right now–"

"Don't you dare say that," she snapped in response, the irritation returning tenfold. "I'll admit that it was under questionable circumstances that we all came together, and rare for our friends to all be together under one roof, or for us to even remain in contact until some kind of event brought us together again. But they were _always_ supportive of each other and of us."

A new round of tears formed and her lips pursed, features trying to scrunch up.

"They would be proud of you for even trying to learn how to defend yourself considering what we're facing right now!"

No. She was done. And to try and save what little was left of her pride before she dissolved into a full scale emotional breakdown, Bulma turned and left the storage room in a hurry, hand covering her mouth to remain silent.

* * *

When she awoke, it was to a blaring headache, crusted eyes and a knee-buckling weight in her heart. Oh, and a forearm that sported a bruise roughly the size of Chi-Chi's fist, its deep splotches shades of purples, reds and blues that were astonishing and eye-catching.

Rather than get up to figure out what time it was, Bulma turned to lay on her back, arm raising pitifully and gaze drawn to the horrendous bruise that hurt just to look at. It felt like the injury was bone deep.

Breaking down the way she had was just… Gods, how was she supposed to face Chi-Chi after _that?_ Yes, the punch hurt and yes, it was evident from the size and colouring of the bruise that the other woman hadn't held back in the slightest, but to more or less lose her shit was so below the person she'd become since the destruction of their planet.

Whereas she'd always lingered in the background and cried and yelled and generally gotten in the way of her warrior friends while on Earth, Bulma liked to believe that she'd grown more self-sufficient during their mission.

 _She_ was the one who made the executive decisions, who controlled their goals and agendas, who basically ran the entire ship _singlehandedly._ Weakness and emotional fragility was not an option, especially not with an impressionable young boy aboard who just wanted his dad back.

But… It looked as though her pitiful old self who relied so heavily on the others and cried when life stopped going her way was back, or at least, scratching at the surface of the façade she wore. And Bulma had no idea how to shove her back in her cage or lock her away for good.

_She didn't want to be that person anymore._

Blue eyes narrowed on her arm, fist slowly clenching until pain flared all the way up to her elbow and forced Bulma to relax.

Changing was easier said than done. How could she essentially rewire herself when said wires were so tangled that she cringed at the mere thought of approaching them?

Then again…

Hadn't they all come together in similar ways? By rewiring themselves and changing for the better? Although, if she wasn't mistaken, it was always that same idiotic, caring man who brought out the best in people, who made them see the error in their ways.

Goku wasn't around to help her change like he had the others. He–

 _Gods,_ she thought in exasperation.

"Get a grip," Bulma scolded herself and stood up. "I'm Bulma Brief!"

Like she needed to rely on someone to change her! Where the hell was the point in changing for someone else? No. It was solely for herself (maybe a tiny bit for Gohan and Chi-Chi too, since they would no doubt be stranded if she was murdered out in space).

No. She had to be stronger for all three of them, both physically _and_ mentally.

First things first, however: she _needed_ a drink. There was no point in fretting over how to change herself if she was going to dehydrate in the process and acquire dry ass skin. No, her new self was going to be perfect in every way – she would make damn sure of it.

One of the worst parts about travelling through space was losing concept of time, for even as Bulma traipsed through the ship towards the kitchen, it was impossible to tell whether the others had settled down for the night. Due to Chi-Chi's constant need to live in a sterile environment (which'd been kicked up several notches since they left Earth and would have been unbearable, had Bulma not noticed it was a coping mechanism), everything was in perfect order. They could have had dinner only an hour or two ago and she wouldn't have been able to tell.

Hopefully, the universe was working in her favour for once and the others were all in bed, saving her from further embarrassment. While her inner prep talk was good for getting her ass out of bad, she knew her wounded pride still needed nursing a little while longer and wasn't up to visitors during the healing process.

The kitchen was in pristine condition when Bulma entered and she made a beeline straight for the refrigerator, where a jug of filtered water awaited her along with an unnecessary number of bottles of the strange drinks Chi-Chi purchased before they found Vegeta. What made it worse was that there were crates of the stuff in the storage room, having been capsulised along with anything else they'd wanted to keep from the old ship (which was a good thing, she supposed, as Vegeta seemed to enjoy them too).

The insistent growling of her stomach forced Bulma to realise that there was another downside to travelling through space – they couldn't snack as much as they did on Earth, as everything was obviously rationed. Most of the food they possessed were non-perishables from Earth and her mother was courteous enough to store away tonnes of frozen meat (in her words, Gohan was a growing boy and needed all the protein he could get), but snacks? Unhealthy junk food her body _craved_ during _that_ time of month? Nope. According to her mother, the temptation to devour it all was much too high, and her self-control was severely lacking.

Gods, what she wouldn't give for just a chunk of chocolate. Not even anything fancy, either. Just plain old milk chocolate. Even if every bite produced a huge blemish, Bulma knew she would savour it, allowing it to simply sit there and melt away on her tongue and just–

"What the hell are you doing?"

She jumped in response to his harsh voice, ripped cruelly from her daydream. Thankfully, she managed to save the water she almost dropped and threw a glare in the direction of the doorway as Vegeta darkened the kitchen with his domineering presence.

"What the hell are _you_ doing sneaking up on me, Stupid Saiyan?"

Almost instantaneously, his gaze zeroed in on the horrific bruising covering her forearm, informing Bulma in the back of her mind that a guy like Vegeta would always notice a change in his environment, even if it was something as simple as a new mark. What else had he noticed, she couldn't help but fret over, swallowing at his darkening gaze. Had Vegeta noticed anything new about her watch, despite the outward changes being minimal?

"What are you staring at?" she demanded, attempting to steal his attention away from her arm, since it coincidentally happened to be the same arm where her watch resided. "Stunned by my natural beauty?"

There was no bark of harsh laughter like she expected there to be. Much to Bulma's horror, Vegeta's reaction was to drag his gaze from her arm and up the length of her body languidly, expression unreadable, just like her own reaction suddenly was for she couldn't understand it in the least.

Her initial response to Vegeta's clear intentions was repulsion, was to shy away from the interested stare of a coldblooded murderer. But the lonely and utterly vulnerable woman within her wanted to reluctantly remain in his line of sight, recalling the simple way he'd just barely touched her two days prior and how her body responded so sensitively.

It was ridiculous how starved of touch she'd become after so little time, and part of Bulma hated herself for feeling such a way, especially over a man like Vegeta.

After Yamcha's death, with the knowledge of there being no more dragonballs on Earth, she'd been so certain that there wouldn't be anyone else for her – or, at least, no one for a few years as she mourned her boyfriend's death. Arguments or not, whether they were on a break or not, Yamcha was her first love and she held said love close to her heart, cherishing it dearly.

It was wrong to look at another so soon after his death, wasn't it?

Refusing to be choked up in front of the stupid saiyan, Bulma clenched her jaw and turned, busying herself with what she presumed to be a plate of dinner made up for her by Chi-Chi.

"Maybe I am," came the seductive whisper that was much, much closer than she'd anticipated and Bulma flinched. If it weren't for one of his hands reaching around her to catch the plate, ensuring to graze her ribcage along the way, it would have shattered to the ground. "Would that bother you, Little Human?"

She… wasn't sure.

For the most part, yes. Yes, it bothered her, but more due to who he was than anything else and the realisation filled her heart with a scalding guilt that took her breath away.

The part of her that wasn't bothered in the slightest wanted Bulma to lean back, to feel the source of the heat that warmed her back, and she damned that side of herself to the seven pits of hell for even considering it.

"No, it wouldn't," he murmured, making a show of breathing in her scent deeply.

She shut her eyes, attempting to ignore the natural response of her weak willed body trying to relax backwards, but while she worked hard to suppress _that_ , Bulma let a delicate shiver slip and regretted it instantly, knowing Vegeta was about to take full advantage of it.

And he did, his nose faintly brushing the expose skin of her neck.

"Stop," she muttered, disappointingly without much malice or authority.

The sound of the plate gently being placed down in front of her had Bulma peering down at it unsurely, then watching the hands that came to the edge of the counter with a mixture of frustration and anticipation as he caged her in.

"Would you rather be alone, Little Human?"

…Damn it, he knew of that weakness, didn't he? How she'd expected any differently when she could barely even control her emotions, Bulma wasn't sure, but what she _did_ know was that he would exploit that weakness now.

Blue eyes widened and she gasped, legs weakening at the sinful sensation of his tongue running up the length of her neck.

_Don't fall for it!_

"Well?" Vegeta questioned lowly, still refusing to close the remaining distance between their bodies. No, he would want her to make that move, wouldn't he? "Bulma?"

She gripped the counter next to his hands, hold tense.

Her name had no right to sound so… _so_ …

"Why would you want that?" came his seemingly harmless question before he hit her with, "Knowing this is as close as you'll get to being with another who resembles your own race?"

In her chest, her heart gave a painful squeeze, completely fanning out the flames he'd slowly stoked to life.

"Knowing that all that awaits you is the solitude of your entire race being dead, save for the one other person on this ship and a half breed brat?" he murmured lowly into her ear, so carelessly like he hadn't just swept her legs out from under her with his brutal words. "What is holding you back? The weakling who couldn't even defeat a saibaman?"

Her eyes stung viciously.

_Yamcha…_

"You won't even remember his name once I'm done with you," came his low growl and she swallowed hard when Vegeta suddenly stepped forward, pinning her hips to the counter and forcing Bulma to feel the hardness digging into the small of her back.

Once more looking to the plate of food Chi-Chi had set aside for her, Bulma's teary eyes narrowed hatefully, upper lip curling and throat burning horribly.

It was when Vegeta's hand fell to her waist that she spun, simultaneously grabbing the plate and thrusting it with all her might into his face. As she should have expected, however, he effortlessly caught her arm and the plate shattered the moment it fell to the tiles, covering them with broken porcelain and food. The noise easily hid her distressed gasp, the feeling of his rough hand closing over her injury shooting all the way up to her elbow and back. That aching only increased when he turned her to face him fully, using her arm to force her back against the counter.

"Pitiful," sneered Vegeta.

"You–"

"You're nothing more than a spineless, sentimental human," he spoke over her coldly, the intensity of the hatred directed down at her almost enough to make Bulma shy away from him. "Where is the point in your clinging to the faces of your past if you refuse to do anything to avenge them?"

Gritting her teeth, she tugged on her arm despite the pain it caused. She needed to get away from him. She couldn't stand to be in his presence any longer, not when he was more than happy to kick her while she was down and she was one meagre, minor inconvenience away from breaking down all over again. No matter what, he couldn't see that.

"Let go of me!"

"I would have thought you'd have more fight in you to take down the cause of such destruction, yet you can't even deny me – the man who merely played a part in your world's destruction."

He was baiting her. She knew he was. Like he'd told her two days ago, he wanted to break her, wanted her to copy his tunnel vision for taking down Frieza and damn it, the grieving part of her wanted to. The lonely, touch starved part of her wanted to throw everything to the wind and give in to that darkness. She wanted to abandon everything else and destroy him.

But she couldn't.

She'd made a promise to Gohan that he would see his father again, meaning they had to be smart about their next move.

Having him releasing her arm was a losing battle, not to mention risky with her watch being mere inches from his powerful hand, so Bulma's next move was to throw a knee upwards, only to hiss and buckle when his own knocked it away.

"You can't even handle training with a woman who doesn't possess a fraction of the strength I have, never mind Frieza," he continued harshly, glaring down at her. "What is the point in your being here, Little Human?"

Pitifully, she pushed against his weight with whatever strength she could muster, her attempts to put more distance between them growing in urgency when he smirked down at her.

"Let go–"

"Make me," he dared darkly. "Show me you have the will to go against the people who destroyed your planet and killed your lover."

Adrenaline mixed with rage coursed through her veins at his words and refusal to release her, and Bulma was certain that the scorching rush was the reasoning behind her renewed strength. It granted her with the ability to push harder, to reach out with her free hand and catch his face with her nails, immediately leaving angry red scratches in her wake, a tiny trickle of blood oozing to the surface of one of them. It'd meant to be a slap, but she was more than happy with the damage she'd caused, knowing a slap would have been even more ineffective.

She was tired of being shoved around and walked all over. She was done with being his plaything and walking on eggshells. Even while knowing he wouldn't kill her, she still feared the consequences of running her mouth and in turn, kept what she truly wanted to say from him.

"That barely even tickled–"

"Bastard…!" she snarled, throwing her weight into him with the aid of her foot pushing against the cupboard, hoping it would grant her with some kind of advantage. "I _hate_ you for what you've done to them!"

He didn't budge. Not even by a centimetre.

But she didn't let that hold her back.

Arms shaking with the struggle when Vegeta shifted his grip to her hands, Bulma switched to her legs. First with a stomp of her foot to his, then with another attempt of kneeing him in his most sensitive area – the one place she knew she could inflict damage.

"Finally," he growled with annoyance, effortlessly pinning her hands to the cupboard behind her. "It's about damn time you quit acting so pitifully."

There was only one other body part she could use to attack him with and with his head being so close to hers, Bulma didn't think twice about leaning back, snarling out another curse as she threw her head forward.

He caught it with his shoulder without so much as a wince, chest pressed tightly to hers, his lips on her ear.

Her breathing stopped.

"Hold onto that anger and hatred, Little Human," he whispered seductively and Bulma struggled once more against his hold, pretending like she hadn't shivered once more at the feeling of his hot breath and lips on her. "It will be what drives you."


End file.
